Coffee Girl
by Ghost of the Dawn
Summary: Tony's investigation as to why SHIELD's coffee is suddenly so bad uncovers a shy agent and a sinister plot to take down SHIELD for good. Takes place after Winter Soldier.
1. Coffee Girl

Author's Note: So I've had this plot bunny running around in my head since Avengers and thought I'd just let it sit there unwritten and it would quietly go away. But then I saw Captain America: Winter Soldier and that plan went to hell as the bunny became a raging 'roid rabbit and would not leave me alone. So I took on the challenge to just vomit it all out at once. Here you go.

This takes place after Winter Soldier, but SHIELD did not completely disband. They are still around, but rebuilding the organization from the ground up in attempts to make sure any Hydra sleeper agents and bugs are completely wiped.

Coffee Girl

Day 1

"Nick? You don't mind if I call you Nick, do you?"

Director Fury looked up from the screen where he was trying to concentrate. Next to him stood a certain genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, quite too close for comfort.

"Director Fury, if you please, Mr. Stark," he replied with no small amount of annoyance in his voice.

"Nick, listen, I've got some very bad news for you."

All of Fury's annoyance was instantly forgotten. Tony Stark may not have been anywhere near his favorite person, but he, unfortunately needed the man. With the whole Hydra fiasco and all the security leaks, even with as much as they had purged enemy agents from their numbers, there was no guarantee Hydra's eyes and ears weren't still hiding in the shadows. Fury had nowhere else to turn but sources outside of SHIELD to rebuild his computer programs and security systems from scratch.

That's where Tony Stark came in. SHIELD offered him a fat contract and several donations to other charities to personally see to a full system restoration and security upgrade. And Fury had been putting up with that eccentric clown since his arrival.

"This coffee? It's horrible," Tony said seriously.

"There's a Starbucks down the road," Fury snapped back. "Now, what's the bad news?"

"That _is_ the bad news," Tony insisted. "This coffee: awful. No, you know what? It's worse than awful. It is vile swill unworthy of human consumption. It is the rankest bean sludge I have ever put in my mouth. It-" He paused when he noticed Fury's extremely annoyed expression. "You really should be more concerned about this. This is clearly a sign that there is still something very wrong in your organization."

Fury tipped his head, jaw set to hold in his temper. "You have five seconds to explain that to me before I kick your ass out of my control room."

"You see, Nick-" Fury rolled his good eye. "-I have been here for the past five days, right? And so far, every single day there has been morning coffee for me and it has tasted fantastic. Quite possibly some of the best I've ever had. But today, today was a nightmare for my taste buds, as I so stated before. So you see my concern."

Fury continued to glare, obviously not getting whatever point Stark was trying to make.

"Inconsistency!" Tony barked. "There's a hiccup in the system! You know, if you kept your eyes- well, eye- on the small things like this, then maybe so much wouldn't have gone on right under your nose."

Fury's eye widened with rage, but it took a moment before the words finally made it out. "Get the hell out of here!"

Tony Stark's body was next seen stumbling out of the main control room as Fury shoved him into the hall.

"Fine," Stark said, straightening his T-shirt, "but the next time an evil terrorist organization infiltrates all aspects of your little club, don't come crying to me to fix the mess."

"Go!" Fury ordered and Tony scooted quickly down the hall.

It was then Fury noticed he wasn't alone. Two of his agents occupied the hallway with him. Neither looked happy to be there.

"What?" he demanded.

Natasha Romanoff leaned against the wall, looking extremely fatigued and grouchy. She held a steaming white mug in her hand.

"This coffee tastes like ass," she said in a scratchy voice.

"And you?" Fury demanded of the tall, blond man standing next to her. "Are you here to complain about the coffee, too?"

Captain Steve Rogers had a small, perplexed frown on his face, but no coffee mug in hand. He stood with uncertainty, arms folded, as if he weren't comfortable in his own stance.

"I'm... just having a very off day," he finally said.

Fury sighed loudly and turned his back on them. "I don't have time for this shit. I have work to do."

* * *

Tony lounged in the large meeting room he commandeered as his office during his occupancy of SHIELD headquarters. Feet propped on the table, he frowned at the different holo-screens floating around him as they relayed the status of his various projects. It was still bothering him.

Pepper would always get that exasperated look and shake her head when his mind clamped down on the smallest of problems. She was always a big picture person while he liked to micromanage. The tiniest of mysteries always tripped him up. Quite possibly because he loved to procrastinate. Either way, it was something to do.

With a wave of his hand, Tony brought up a new screen.

"JARVIS, get me camera footage from the main break room."

"Any particular time, Sir? Or do you just want to admire the decorating?" said a mechanical, long-suffering voice.

Tony rubbed the stubble on his chin as he thought how to narrow his search. "From this week only. Let's start our first day, Monday morning. Start time... let's do this, find when I first entered the break room."

"Excellent idea, Sir. One can never have too much video of one's self."

Tony made a sarcastic face to the open air. "Just shut up and do it."

In mere seconds, black and white footage of Tony himself in the break room with a cup of coffee popped up on the screen.

"Okay, now rewind it from there."

The computer silently obeyed and Tony watched as several agents before him visited the coffee station. He sat forward when one in particular looked to be filling the coffee maker.

"Pause it there."

Though he only had a back view of the agent, Tony could tell he was looking at a woman from the shape of the body and the long hair pulled back into a bun. He almost assumed it was Agent Hill. Same type of hair, but not quite the same height. But the bun was rather messy with random strands falling out. Agent Hill was far too orderly to come in like that.

"JARVIS, pull up Tuesday now. Let's see if we can get a better shot of our mystery barista."

"Yes, Sir."

After ten minutes of surfing footage of the break room, Tony had several shots of his coffee girl, but had yet to identify her. He was having a hard enough time just finding a good still off her face. The woman always had her head down, away from the cameras, as if purposefully hiding from them.

But Tony certainly wasn't about to give up that easily. "JARVIS, search all security footage for this person, see if you can't find me a clearer shot. Once you do, identify her and bring up her agent records."

"Should I also alert Ms. Potts of your new stalker status?"

Sometimes Tony wished JARVIS had some sort of physical form so he could throw things at it. "This has nothing to do with her. Just do what I say."

"As you wish, Sir."

Tony leaned back in his chair with a sigh. The things he put up with for a good cup of coffee.

* * *

Director Fury walked by the long windows of Tony's de facto work space to see him fully occupied with a multitude of hovering screens. Though it appeared Stark was working hard, Fury had a feeling it wasn't all related with what he had been contracted to do. Something was up. Fury got on his radio.

"Agent Romanoff?"

"Romanoff here," the redhead's voice replied, sounding more awake this time.

"I've got a baby-sitting job for you."

"Stark?" she responded simply.

"Just keep an eye on him. I feel like he's nosing around where he doesn't necessarily need to be."

"He's probably just bored."

"Or he's up to something. Just keep tabs on him and alert me if he oversteps his boundaries."

"Copy that. Romanoff out."

Even as Fury ended the call and went on his way, Tony was staring at an agent file. An identification picture was tacked on, showing a woman with the same stray hair and a lack of expression on her face.

"Agent Marcia Gray, huh?" Tony said to himself. "Not much on you here." He glanced around the file. "Specialty: extraction. What? Is she a dentist or something? Key notes: DNR. Whatever that means in this place." Tony's gaze went back to the picture, making his own assumptions based on her appearance. "You probably work some boring desk job in a tiny cubicle without a window. Girl makes one hell of a cup of coffee though. We'll see what was so important you couldn't be bothered to make any today."

"Sir," JARVIS' voice cut in. "I've checked all the footage from today. Agent Gray is not in the building, nor did she report for work this morning."

Tony tipped his head. "Interesting. Well, it's a good thing this file just happens to have a home address."

* * *

Tony parked where the GPS directed him and stepped out of his rented Porsche. The neighborhood was quaint and unassuming. Not too posh, but not too ghetto. The perfect place for a secret agent to reside and pretend they lived the average life.

Tony located the stairs and headed up to the second floor. Apartment 214 was right in front of him and he did not hesitate to raise his hand and knocked.

"What are you doing, Stark?" a female voice asked behind him.

He turned to find an unexpected, but familiar redhead standing behind him, hands on hips.

"Oh, Agent Romanoff. I assume Fury sent you to be my handler? I'm just making a quick house call, it's noting to be concerned about."

Natasha stepped closer, unswayed. "A call to whose house?"

At that time, the apartment door opened and bleary-eyed woman peered out. Her brown hair was more of a mess than in the surveillance footage and she was dressed in a robe that would have been a brilliant pink years ago.

"Hi there!" Tony greeted brightly. "Agent Gray, I presume."

The woman squinted at him. "Mr. Stark?" Then her gaze slid over to the head of brilliant red hair. "Natasha- Agent Romanoff."

She gave a quick nod in greeting. "Marcy."

"It's been a while," Agent Gray said, voice scratchy. "You look really good."

"You look like hell," the redhead shot back.

Agent Gray coughed and then sniffled. "How's Barton?"

"He's doing very well. He'll be in town tomorrow, in fact. I'll tell him you asked about him."

Agent Gray nodded and then both women looked expectantly at Tony.

"Hey, I just came about the coffee," he said. "The stuff at HQ is hardly passable."

Natasha gave a grunt of agreement.

Agent Gray blinked at Tony as if he were a radiant light that hurt her eyes. "My coffee?"

"Big fan," Tony insisted, one hand pressed to his chest. "The day just doesn't start right without it. You'll be in tomorrow to make some, won't you?"

"I'll... try. Depends on how I'm feeling. I caught this nasty flu bug and it's hit me pretty hard."

"Understandable. Maybe if we came in and helped-"

Natasha cut him off by grabbing his arm. "We're going now. Sorry to bother you. Feel better, Marcy." With that, she dragged Tony by the arm back down the stairs.

"If you can't make it in, call me," Tony called as he was taken away. "Maybe we can set up a delivery or something."

He was yanked out of sight and Agent Gray shook her head as if she could not believe what just happened, and then shut the door.

* * *

Day 2

Dr. Bruce Banner filled his cup at the water cooler, fully aware of the wide berth given him by all SHIELD employees. It didn't bother him so much. He understood and he enjoyed the quiet.

"Have you tried this stuff?" Tony demanded, shoving a mug in his face.

Well, almost quiet.

"I don't drink coffee," Bruce replied calmly. "It makes me jittery. That seemed like a bad thing."

Tony put a companionable arm around him. "Consider yourself blessed my friend. It tastes like it was filtered through a week old maxi pad."

Bruce made a disgusted face while Tony promptly dumped his coffee onto the floor.

"What are you two genius idiots doing to my new carpet?!"

Said idiots turned to find Director Fury storming toward them. Bruce instantly backed up, hands raised in surrender as one finger pointed at Tony.

"Take it out of what you owe me," the billionaire responded without missing a beat. "You're already late on your first payment."

"It's in the mail," Fury responded with a tight jaw.

"Uh huh."

"Get back to work," was all Fury said in retort and turned on his heel with the flip of his coat tails.

"Oh, I've got work, alright," Tony said seriously, and turned to sneak off to places unknown.

Bruce wasn't even going to ask.

* * *

SHIELD Agent Clint Barton stepped into the elevator as Tony pressed the button for the main floor.

"Going somewhere?" the archer asked.

"Just a quick errand. You come to stop me, Hunger Games?" Tony asked in challenge.

"Actually, I'm going with you if you're headed to see Agent Gray."

Tony quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected response. "The more the merrier, I suppose." He paused, then added, "Have you tried the coffee?"

"Tastes like it came out of the back end of a gangrenous water buffalo."

Tony snorted with a grin. "Yeah, it does."

* * *

The door to apartment 214 opened shortly after the first knock. Agent Gray, looking very much in the same state as she did the day before, peered out. Before she could even offer a greeting, Clint promptly shoved Tony out of the way, then held out his arms to her.

"Marcy."

Her pallid face lit up slightly. "Clint!" Then she quickly backed up when he tried to hug her, long sleeve covering her mouth. "You don't want to touch me, I'm disgusting right now."

"Too bad, you're getting a hug anyway."

Agent Gray held both arms in front of her like a shield, but Clint still wrapped his arms around her. The woman closed her eyes for a moment and Tony slipped inside.

"How long's it been?" Clint asked. "Two years?"

"Four," Agent Gray corrected.

"FOUR?!" Clint blinked at her, going through his mental calendar. Then he realized he didn't even know what day it was today, so maybe she was right.

Tony's muttering could be heard from the inside and Agent Gray turned around. "Can I help you with something, Mr. Stark?"

Tony yanked open her blinds with a loud whir. "Just getting some light in here. Sunshine is very good for you. Also, this," he added as Agent Gray walked into the living room. There was suddenly a device in his hand and he punched it into her arm.

"Ow!" she barked, jumping back and rubbing away the pain.

Clint was suddenly between them, pushing Stark back. "Hey! What was that?"

Tony raised his hands before Clint decided to go all assassin on his ass. "Nothing, just an immune system booster, compliments of a small pharmaceutical company I own."

"FDA approved?" Agent Gray asked suspiciously.

"No, but I've used it several times myself. The last two even had the desired affects with no hallucinations."

By then, Agent Gray decided she was still too sick and tired to worry about it and let out a heavy sigh.

"Actually, Agent Gray," Tony then said, "since you did ask, a cup of coffee would be fantastic. Thank you."

"I'm out," she replied in a flat voice. "How's tea?"

Tony sighed while Clint made himself comfortable on her couch. "Fine. That's fine."

Agent Gray retreated into the kitchen to get some distance, but Tony followed her in. "So tell me, how is it that I don't remember seeing you around the 'ol HQ since I've been here?"

"I'm paid to blend in," she replied as she heated the water. "I do my job better when I'm not noticed."

"And that job is?"

"Hey, nice collection," Clint interrupted as he came into the kitchen. He was currently admiring an assortment of newspaper clippings hanging on the fridge and around the walls.

Tony stepped over to have a look. All the articles were related to members of the Avengers team. "This isn't creepy at all. Stalk much?"

"I enjoy reading your exploits," she insisted. "I'm proud of you guys. A lot of us in SHIELD are."

"Mmhm," Tony said as he took a mental count of who were in which pictures. "Seems you have a predilection to a certain star-spangled science project."

"Most women do," Clint muttered.

Agent Gray quickly turned away with an embarrassed shrug. "He's pretty much your poster boy. Most of the papers go with shots of Captain Rogers."

Tony and Clint exchanged smirks, but let it go.

When the tea was ready, the three returned to the living room. The two Avengers sat on the couch while Agent Gray took the chair.

"So you and Barton used to be partners," Tony said as he sipped his hot tea. It wasn't bad, but he still sorely missed that coffee.

"It was years ago, before Natasha became part of SHIELD," Clint responded.

"So you're the ex, then," Tony said to Agent Gray with a playful quirk of his mouth.

"And happy to be so," Agent Gray replied. "Clint and Agent Romanoff work seamlessly together and I was able to be transferred some place where I could be more useful."

Tony wasn't sure, but Clint looked like he didn't exactly agree with that statement. But before he could entertain that mystery, something furry jumped upon the couch behind him.

"Why, hello. Who is this?" Tony asked of the large gray tabby perched by his shoulder.

"That's Dippy. Don't mind him. He just likes to look out the window."

"Dippy? That short for anything?"

"Dipshit," Agent Gray replied simply.

Clint choked on his tea.

"He belonged to my dad before he died," she went on to explain. "And he's quite possibly the dumbest cat alive."

As if on cue, the cat started yowling at nothing in particular.

"I'm over here, buddy," Agent Gray called. "You're fine."

The cat turned with a startled look, as if not realizing there were people in the room, and promptly fell off the back of the couch.

"Yup. That's Dippy."

Clint smiled, silent nostalgia on his face.

Tony set down his tea. "Well this visit has been nothing if not entertaining."

* * *

Day 3

Agents always greeted Steve each morning when he walked into SHIELD central. Most would nod; a few of the more confident ones would offer a "Morning, Cap" as he passed. The female agents would give him winks or sly grins. Sometimes they giggled at his passing and gave him flirtatious waves as if to beckon him to them.

Even though it sometimes made Steve feel a bit shy, he didn't mind the flirting. It was a nice change from his previous life of being absolutely invisible to women. Today, however, he had a hard time returning any smiles sent his way. He wasn't sure why.

As he stepped into the elevator alone, he allowed himself to frown as he tried to put a finger on his inner turmoil. This was the third day and he just didn't feel like himself. What was going on?

The elevator door was almost closed before a hand shot in.

"Hold the door," Tony called before stepping inside. He nodded at the taller blond man. "How you doin', Cap?"

Steve just shrugged as they ascended. "I don't know. I've felt kind of... odd these past few days. Like I'm missing something important. Something doesn't feel right."

"Maybe you're getting sick," Tony suggested. "It seems there's a bug going around."

"I don't get sick," Steve insisted.

"Of course you don't," Tony muttered. Then in a louder voice, "You ever tried the coffee here?"

"I don't drink it much. The caffeine has no affect on me."

The elevator binged their floor and both stepped out.

"Well, unfortunately for the rest of us non-enhanced peons, we've had to choke down the most vile-" Tony paused when he saw Agent Gray, looking very well and standing in the doorway of the break room, steaming cup in her hand.

"I trust this means no more unannounced visits to my apartment," she said as she handed over the coffee.

Tony took a sip and, for a moment, he was in love. "I promise nothing. I am a man of routine after all."

Steve, when he realized Tony was intent on flirting with the coffee girl, continued on his way.

"Good morning, Captain Rogers," Agent Gray said softly as he passed, as she did every morning.

He didn't seem to hear her, as was his norm every morning.

Still, Steve suddenly had the feeling that whatever had been missing from his life the past three days was suddenly put back in place. Something gentle soothed his nervous edges and the next person to greet him was answered with a genuine smile. Today felt like it was going to be a pretty good day after all.


	2. The Letter

The Letter

Bruce Banner turned the worn envelope over and over in his hands. His eyes traced Betty's name scrawled in his penmanship as his fingers creased the corners.

Betty Ross, the only woman he had ever loved. The one who never looked at him with fear, who never treated him like a monster, though she knew the truth. The one who would always have his heart even though he could never have her. Not with her father, General Ross, forcing them to remain apart with bullets and tanks. But that didn't mean he thought of her less, loved her any less, missed her any less.

All that time he had been in hiding, he used his work to keep himself busy, to ignore the heartache. But after New York, after gods, magical weaponry and alien invasions, being so close to total Earthly annihilation put her forefront in his thoughts once more and he ached to see her. He burned to share with her all he had done and seen. Even more so to express everything he still felt for her.

After the battle had died, in the first quiet moment he found for himself, Bruce sat down and he wrote. In fumbling words, he poured out his heart, doing his best to express the nature of his being. He wrote until he felt he had emptied out his entire soul and was a bit disappointed in himself to find he had only filled out two pages. Two pages of the simplest expression of love. Two pages of everything that was him, laid bare and bleeding, and missing the one he cared for most.

Once completed, the letter was placed in an envelope with her name and that's where the process ended. Bruce could not mail it, he had no address. He no longer knew Betty's whereabouts. She was in protective custody at her father's orders. Even more so now since New York, Bruce surmised. No doubt Betty's mail was even searched before she received it. Even if he had an address, nothing he sent would ever reach her.

It was a hopeless situation. All he could do was hold his heart in his hands and ache for something that could never be.

"Dr. Banner?"

A soft voice threw him out of his melancholy and Bruce jerked to find he was suddenly no longer alone in his lab. A SHIELD Agent, female, stood over him, her unruly hair falling out of a messy bun.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Bruce suddenly felt ridiculous and quickly hid the envelope under a stack of files. "Sorry, I'm fine. I was just startled. I didn't notice you come in."

"I'm paid not to be noticed," she replied.

"And your name is?" Bruce asked suspiciously.

"I beg your pardon. I'm Agent Gray."

"Should... I know you? Are you assigned to this department?"

"Oh, nothing like that. It's just that I walk by here every day and I see you through the window and I always see you holding that envelope, staring at it."

Bruce frowned; he got it now. "So they sent you to watch me to make sure I'm not wasting SHIELD's time." To be fair, they were paying him to research the gamma radiation output of the Tesseract and any lingering effects it may have had on agents who had spent prolonged exposure in its glow.

Agent Gray gently shook her head. "Dr. Banner, I'm not here to micromanage. I don't care what you do while on SHIELD's time. I was wondering if you needed help sending that letter."

He gave her an apologetic smile and then looked down at his hands. "Thanks for the concern, but I'm afraid it's undeliverable."

"Elizabeth Ross may be difficult to reach, but not impossible."

Bruce felt a bit of his temper flare at the mention of his love's name at the lips of this stranger. He wanted to berate her for nosing into his personal business. But this was SHIELD. Everyone knew his personal business. It was in a file that was recently leaked to the world, along with most, if not all, of SHIELD's data.

"It's not important," he found himself saying.

"It is important," Agent Gray insisted. "You wouldn't look at it every day if it wasn't."

"There's no way to get it to her. You can't. No one can."

She sat herself down in the chair next to his, looking Bruce in the eye. "I am a trained SHIELD agent, I have my ways. Give me the letter and give me some time to get it to her."

By then, Bruce had pulled the envelope back out, fingering it. He was shaking his head.

"If I can't do it, I'll give it right back to you," Agent Gray pressed. "And you will have lost nothing."

Bruce gave her the shadow of a smile. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I suppose."

Agent Gray took the letter from him. "Exactly."

* * *

Director Fury stood at this control station, overlooking SHIELD operations with a keen eye, hands clasped smartly behind his back.

Next to him stood Tony Stark, dressed in torn jeans, as if he couldn't afford new ones. He was loudly tasting his coffee with unappetizing smacking sounds. And he was not necessarily supposed to be in there.

"What is it now?" Fury finally asked.

"This coffee, it has a weird taste."

"It is exactly the same coffee Agent Gray uses. I made sure we stocked up plenty in the kitchen."

"Yes, but this wasn't made by Agent Gray. It lacks the love and care she puts into it."

Fury's voice rose a bit with irritation. "How the hell can you even tell? I still can't believe you met her."

"Why?" Tony asked as he took another cautionary sip. "Did she in fact die here two years ago in this very building?"

"It's because I pay her not to be noticed and she's doing a terrible job of it."

"She's not doing too bad right now. I can't find her and she clearly did not make this coffee. Do you have her on speed dial or something? Maybe I can get her number so this doesn't happen again."

Fury turned, laying his full attention and fading temper on Tony. "She's not your personal coffee girl, she's a SHIELD agent. And right now she's out in the field doing her damn job!"

"Did she say when she was coming back? Hell, if she's close by, I'll just fly to her and she can make me-"

"Get the hell out of my control room, Stark!" Fury turned to find a much larger, well-built man standing in his way. "And what do you need, Rogers?"

Steve had a small frown on his face, looking unsure. "I'm having another off day. It feels weird."

Tony took another sip. "Funny how that always happens on days when the coffee's bad, huh, Cap?"

Steve just tipped his head. "I have no idea what that means."

Tony looked skyward. "Of course you don't."

* * *

Betty Ross walked to her car after school had let out. Though no one here called her Betty any more. Sheila Fines was now the name on her ID; all part of the witness relocation program. Her father had insisted. Betty hated it. And yet, she knew she had to. With all the publicity brought on by the Avengers, with so much of SHIELD's secret files now out on the internet for public display, she had little choice.

Admittedly, her life wasn't so bad. Teaching high school science was a huge step down from her cell research, but it kept her busy and she adored the kids. Most importantly, it was a second chance at a normal life and Betty yearned for normal. Though, at the same time, she yearned even more for Bruce.

"Bye, Ms. Fines," one of her students called.

Betty paused as she opened her car door to wave at them. Then, turning to get in, she promptly dropped her purse, spilling a few of the contents. Mumbling to herself, she bent to retrieve her things. When she stood, she paused at the sight of a white envelope in the driver's seat. She was completely positive it wasn't there when she had first unlocked the car.

A chill went up her spine as if she were in the presence of something unnatural. Still, she got in her car, closing the door behind her as she inspected the envelope. Her name was written on the front and Betty's heart jumped into her throat, tears stinging her eyes as she recognized the handwriting.

It had been nearly two weeks and Bruce was getting antsier by the day. He regretted his decision more each time he thought about it. Every morning he looked for the mysterious Agent Gray. Every morning his fingers missed holding that letter almost as much as they missed touching the warmth of the woman he loved.

What if his letter became lost? What if someone found it and read it? What if Agent Gray read it? Those words were not for her eyes or anyone else's. Those other people did not belong in his world. They had no right to know his pain. How could he have just let the letter go like that? What was he thinking?

Unable to concentrate on his work, Dr. Banner took to stalking the halls, lost in his own thoughts. It took very little time for the surrounding agents on the floor to notice his clear agitation. They called in for a supervisor at once.

"Dr. Banner," Fury said carefully as he approached.

Bruce looked up, torn from his tortured thoughts.

Fury held up a calming hand, though the other was reaching for his weapon just in case. "You seem a little upset. I just want to know if everything is all right."

Bruce instantly realized what he was doing and visibly calmed down with a heavy sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I just had... some personal issues on my mind." He paused, then asked, "Do you know of an Agent Gray?"

Fury suddenly set his jaw a bit tighter, irked at the fact that another member of the Avengers was asking for someone who was supposed to be invisible.

"Dr. Banner, I'm right here," came a soft, feminine voice.

Fury's expression told he was going to have a word with her and Agent Gray looked properly chastised for it.

"Agent Gray," Bruce pushed in, ignoring Fury. "I'm sorry, I made a mistake. I would really like that letter back right now. I can't-"

He paused when Agent Gray produced a blue unfamiliar envelope. "That's not mine."

"No," she responded calmly. "This is her reply."

Bruce stared at her wide-eyed. The prospect of ever receiving something from Betty in return had never crossed his mind. His heart fluttered, his chest grew tight, and he suddenly had his arms around the bewildered agent.

The woman allowed him a moment just to hold her before rasping into his ear with a breath-taken voice, "Dr. Banner, you give awesome hugs."

It was then Bruce found himself and quickly pulled away. "Sorry about that. And thank you."

Agent Gray nodded as she passed over the envelope to his trembling fingers. "It was my pleasure."

Her smile instantly faded under Fury's sharp gaze and he jerked his head in a motion to follow him. He needed to have a talk with his employee.

* * *

In a locked room under a bright bulb, Bruce sequestered himself with his letter, hands fumbling to open it. When he first set eyes on it, he was elated beyond words. Now he was terrified. What if he didn't like what he read? He had never even considered a response from Betty when he wrote the letter.

Now, for the first time, he knew this came with the possibility of rejection. But, he knew he had to read it no matter what it said. Rejection was still better than nothing at all. If she no longer wanted him, no longer loved him for what he had become, he needed to know. He needed the closure so he could move on.

Contained in the blue envelope was a single piece of lined paper. Scrawled in a hasty, but dainty style he read:

Dear Bruce,

I cannot even being to fathom what magic as brought you to me, but I leave

this message out in the ether of angels in hopes the same powers help it find you.

Know that where I am, I am safe and happy. But please do not mistake my happiness

as satisfaction with a life not involving you.

I regret the brevity, but I don't know how closely they keep tabs on me. I just

want you to know that through all this, I have and still yearn for you. I dream of your

eyes, your voice, your embrace. I love you, Bruce. All of you. My heart is yours as

long as yours is mine and I will wait for you. All you have to do is call and I will come.

Work your magic once more when the time is right and I will be there.

With all my love,

Betty

Bruce read the letter again. Then once more. He consumed each word, swirled it around in his gut, in his heart, and all the secret nerve endings in between that danced and trembled. His chest felt too full to contain what he felt and emotion forced its way out.

The joy of her words, the pain of her distance; it all fell together in a heavy weight and the dam broke. Hands supporting his face, finger thrust in his hair, Bruce surrendered to it all. He wept.


	3. Birthday

Author's Notes: Putting these out fast. As I said, I just vomited most of it out at once. The only thing slowing me up is the editing. Thank you to those who have commented and faved so far. I'm having so much fun with this.

Birthday

"What about Jillian in communications? She's totally into you. I see her flirting every time you walk by."

"Jillian?" Steve responded dubiously. "The girl with the purple hair?"

"What?" Natasha defended as the elevator door closed behind them. "It means she likes to have fun, try new things. You could learn something from a girl like that, Rogers."

"Are you ever going to stop trying to set me up with my coworkers?" Steve complained.

"Relax, I'm not shopping for your wife. I just think it would do you good to get out, you know? Do something ordinary. Take a pretty girl to dinner, go see a movie."

The elevator dinged as it hit the ground floor.

"Did you ever consider that maybe I'm not interested in dating a SHIELD agent?" Steve said.

Natasha raised a brow at him. "So you asked a 'normal' girl out yet?"

Steve's face told her he hadn't and the elevator doors opened.

Clint was standing in the lobby, waiting. He looked at Natasha and then nodded at Steve. "You coming, too?"

"Coming where?"

Natasha grabbed his jacket sleeve and guided Steve out. "You should come. It will be fun. It's an opportunity for a little normalcy. We all could use some of that."

Steve slowed the pace a little, suspicious. "Which is...?"

"We're going to a birthday party. Agent Coulson's nephew is turning six."

The name of the departed agent caused Steve to halt completely in his tracks. "Agent Coulson? I wasn't aware of what family he had."

"He has a sister," the red head responded. "She used to be an agent, too. It sort of runs in Coulson's family. She retired from SHIELD after she got married. Now she has a son and another on the way."

"So are we going or not?" Clint pressed, walking backwards toward the door. Steve, for the first time, noticed both were in street clothes which was unusual for them. Where he wore them constantly unless he was suited up. "I don't want to miss the cake before those little nose rangers get their dirty hands on it."

Steve looked unconvinced. "It's all about the kids, is it?"

"Actually, we're mostly going for the mother," Natasha said. "But this kid's a big Captain America fan. You would totally make his day if you went."

Steve thought about it for a moment. "No, I think I'll pass. I don't think making birthday appearances is my thing."

Clint was still trying to get at least Natasha to the door, but the redhead wasn't finished.

"Look, I wouldn't have asked unless this was a special occasion. This kid, his health hasn't been that great this year. They're not sure if he'll make it to another birthday."

Steve gave a loud huff. "Fine. I'll go."

* * *

They took a not so conspicuous SUV and parked in an apartment complex. Steve silently followed the two assassins up to the second floor as they stopped outside door number 214.

"Sounds kinda quiet in there for a birthday party," the blond man said.

"We're just picking up another passenger," Natasha replied as Clint raised a hand to knock.

Before he could, however, the door swung open on its own and bright green material was flicked in their faces, showering them all with little green snowflake-like puffs. From behind the gentle fall, a wide-eyed woman stood in the doorway.

"Yikes, sorry guys. Didn't see you there."

By now, all three were covered in small bits of neon green. Natasha spit out a particularly naughty bit that had gotten into her mouth.

"Come inside, I've got lint rollers. We'll get you guys cleaned up," the woman said.

As they stepped in, Natasha nodded to the brunette woman. "Steve, this is Agent Gray. Marcy, this is Captain Rogers."

He nodded at her. "Ma'am."

The woman known as Marcy instantly grinned at the word, though she tried to hide it. She shoved a lint roller into his hands before handing another to Natasha. The redhead instantly worked to rid herself of all the green puffs clinging to her nice black slacks.

Steve's roller was brand new and his large, blunt fingers were having difficulty peeling off the top layer.

"Here, I got that," Marcy said as she took it back and used her fingernails to scratch off the tape.

Clint moved further into the apartment and gave a low whistle at the three foot tall plush green T-rex sitting on the couch. "You make this yourself?"

"Have you not seen all the green in my apartment?" Marcy laughed in response. She began removing the lint off Steve's jacket herself as she talked. First, the arms, then the back of his shoulders. "This material is so messy to work with. When you cut out pieces, it just sheds everywhere and gets into everything. I'm so glad it's done."

Natasha took her turn to appraise the plush dinosaur as it bared its felt teeth at her. "It turned out real nice. That kid's gonna love it."

"I hope so. It took me so long. And it came out way bigger than I thought it would. I used like four bags of stuffing on that monster."

Natasha turned back around to Marcy and grinned. "I'm quite sure Rogers' ass is nice and clean now."

Marcy paused, suddenly realizing she had been giving Steve's backside a good wiping down. Quickly, she handed the roller to him in embarrassment and backed away.

"Clint, watch out of the cat," she then called. "Don't let him eat your shoelaces. He'll do it."

Clint looked down at the gray tabby, who had obviously rolled in all the green poof balls he could find. The feline was gnawing on his laces like they were the best thing in the world.

He grinned. "I love this dumb cat."

* * *

"So does she know what the baby's going to be?" Natasha asked as they sat in the SUV while Clint drove.

"Hollie's having a little girl," Marcy responded from the back seat, T-rex in her lap. "She's very excited."

Natasha glanced from the front. "Any names picked out?"

Marcy snorted. "Kardashian."

Natasha made a face of disgust. "Oh, that's awful! Why would she do that?"

"I know. Hopefully, when her husband gets back from deployment he'll talk her out of it."

As the girl's spoke, Steve continued to watch Marcy curiously as he sat next to her. "So how is it you knew Coulson? I mean, I'm sure everyone in SHIELD knows of Coulson, but-"

Marcy nodded in understanding. "His and my families both come from SHIELD since the beginning. He, his sister and I were practically raised at SHIELD daycare. We all knew we would also be agents before we were old enough to carry a gun."

Steve nodded and then said, "I'm sorry if this sounds weird, but have we met before? Your voice sounds so familiar to me."

Marcy turned her dark eyes on him. "No, we haven't officially been introduced. But we've worked in the same building for the past few months. I usually say good morning to you when I see you."

Steve pressed his brows together in thought.

"You usually don't notice," Marcy continued, then added quickly. "Which is fine. I'm kind of quiet at work."

He gave her one of those melting smiles that would make any girl's knees go weak. "Well, I'll be sure to listen real carefully next time."

Marcy quickly looked out the window, her face red. Natasha glanced back and smiled to herself.

* * *

The four were met with exuberance from Hollie, a tall blonde woman who shared Coulson's eyes and nose. She led them to the back yard where a cluster of children were running around and causing a general ruckus. The boy in the lead wore a plastic crown, presumably the birthday boy.

"Marcus," Hollie called. "Come say hi to Uncle Phil's friends."

The child ran up, pausing in front of Steve to stare at the tall man.

"Look, hon, it's Steve Rogers. You know, Captain America?" his mother said.

Marcus then made a face. "I wanted Iron Man."

"What about this?" Marcy jumped in, shoving the plush dinosaur in his face. "I said I'd make you one."

The child had to catch his crown in his excitement. "Woah! That's so cool!"

"Rar!" she barked at the kids. "Rar! Rar! Rar! Rar!"

They all squealed and scampered off, Marcy chasing after them with the dinosaur.

Steve watched them go then turned to Natasha. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with that kid," he accused.

Natasha just smirked at him.

"Just when I was starting to trust you."

Clint was nowhere to be seen. He was probably still inside, spying on the cake.

The remaining two watched the SHIELD agent chase children around before Natasha turned to the taller blond man. "Ask Agent Gray out. I'm sure she'll say yes."

Steve just sighed.

* * *

Marcy turned around and almost ran into a taller, scruffy man with a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Oh! Mr. Stark!"

"Agent Gray," he nodded.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here."

He waved her off. "Just dropping by for the day to make sure all my new security systems are working properly. Plus, I was jonesing for the good stuff." He held up his cup in emphasis before taking a sip. "Ever considered coming to work for me? I'd pay you well to keep me supplied."

She smiled at him. "I don't really see going from SHIELD Agent to coffee girl as moving up in the world."

"Fair enough."

Just then, Steve Rogers walked by and Marcy called out to him with a little more confidence than she usually did. "Good morning, Captain Rogers."

This time, for the first time, he paused, backtracked, and pointed a finger at her in an 'I gotcha' motion.

"By the way," Tony put in. "I saw Barton this morning. He said he put a present in your office for you. Is it your birthday?"

Marcy suddenly looked suspicious. "No. And I'm not expecting anything either."

Tony jerked his head. "Let's go see what it is."

Marcy seemed dubious, but walked down the hall to her office, Tony right at her heels. Steve lingered back, but he was curious, so he followed a few paces behind.

Upon reaching the dark office, Marcy flipped on the lights and immediately stumbled back when she saw a humanoid figure standing there in the middle of the room. Tony tried to catch her, spilling a little of his beloved coffee.

"Oh God!" Marcy blurted at the horrific scene in her office.

Seeing her distress, Steve lurched forward, ready to protect all that needed protecting. Marcy saw him coming and a second "Oh God!" slipped from her lips as she scrambled into the office.

"Agent Gray, are you alright?" Steve asked as he poked his head in.

Marcy gasped at his entrance, her face flushed as she tried to hide something behind her. Unfortunately for her, the form was taller and wider than she was.

Steve furrowed his brows at the likeness. "Is that... me?"

Marcy glanced back in embarrassment, the life-sized cardboard cut out of Captain America smiled back at her. Someone- most likely Clint- had taped a word bubble to the head that read "Hey baby, call me for a good time."

"Uh... maybe?" she floundered helplessly.

Tony was no help at all. To his credit, he was trying very hard not to laugh. But he was choking so much, he couldn't drink his coffee.

"I didn't ask him for it!" Marcy continued, completely mortified by now. "Barton's just pranking me."

Steve sat there, stewing at the sight of his own cardboard face, arms crossed over his chest as he thought. "Yeah, but why is it a picture of me?"

Tony paused to look skyward again. This man was the dumbest in all creation.

Marcy just put a hand to her face, her cheeks were hot to the touch. "Just... just move on." She said with disgust at herself, flicking her wrist at him. "There's nothing more to see here."

"Yeah, but..."

"You heard the woman, move on, Cap," Tony said. He gave Marcy a sympathetic shake of his head before pushing the taller man down the hall. "Don't you have some orphans to save or an old lady to help across the street?"

Marcy breathed a sigh of relief as they left. She turned to the cutout and silently swore she would get her ex-partner back for this.

* * *

It wasn't too many days after before Marcy walked into her dark office again and let out a startled shriek at yet another unexpected form standing in her office. Followed shortly by a cry of frustration.

That evening, Director Fury passed her in the hall and noticed she was carrying something human-shaped and made of cardboard under her arm. He paused to ascertain that it was indeed a cardboard cut out of Tony Stark, in full Iron Man suit, holding his helmet as his side.

"Agent Gray," he called. "Why the hell do you have-"

Her dark look cut him off.

"Apparently," she said with a sigh, "I'm starting a collection."

The word bubble on the cut out said "Happy Birthday".


	4. Extraction

Extraction

Black Widow ducked behind a car as bullets whizzed by her head. Hawkeye crouched next to her, firing an arrow over their meager shelter. He was rewarded with a pained cry, yet more gunmen just took their place.

"There's too many of them," Hawkeye growled.

Black Widow said nothing, but she knew they were seriously outgunned.

SHIELD had discovered, quite by accident, a secret nest of Hydra agents still in the city, doing their best to hang onto what few measly strings they could within SHIELD. They were still listening in and plotting with SHIELD intel. Fury ordered the enemy's last stronghold wiped out.

Unfortunately, the attack had been too rash. There were far more Hydra agents than expected. And those agents had a much larger amount of fire power than SHIELD brought with them. Thus, leading to Hawkeye and Black Widow's particular situation.

"I only have two arrows left," Hawkeye admitted. "We need to get out of here and regroup."

The pained sound of a man being punched in the gut momentarily paused the gunfire. A few metal clangs of flesh hitting steel and then the barrage started up again. This time, punctuated by bullets bouncing off an impenetrable shield. Natasha glanced above the car just in time to see Captain America dive over it and land next to her.

"There is a lot more manpower out there than we were briefed," he stated, slightly out of breath.

"Tell me about it," Natasha responded as she slid another round of bullets into her weapon.

She glanced over again to fire at the enemy when she saw they had pulled out something new. The point of a missile launcher was aimed right for the car they were hiding behind.

"Start running boys!" she called as she took off.

The two men glanced back, saw the danger, and quickly sprinted after her.

Bullets rained around them before the heat of an explosion blew them all off their feet. Hawkeye coughed as his back smacked on the cement, cutting through skin and knocking the wind out of him. His vision spun as he felt a large hand grab the front of his uniform and jerk him to his feet. Hawkeye stumbled after the captain as they found refuge behind a flimsy shed. That wouldn't protect them for long.

"This is Black Widow," her voice cut through the heavy sound of machine guns. "Hawkeye, Captain America and I are pinned down and out gunned. Any teams in the area? We could use some assistance."

"This is Gamma Team," a voice replied, the connection full of static. "We had to pull back. Nowhere near your position. Waiting for back up to arrive."

A second voice came on, but the connection was so bad, it was hard to make out any words. The tone seemed to suggest help would not be coming from that direction. The lines to the other teams remained dead.

"Looks like we're on our own," Natasha said.

Hawkeye stared at her, his eyes intense on her face. "If we don't make it out of this..."

A voice suddenly came through the radio, the connection crystal clear.

"This is Agent Gray. I read you, Black Widow. Stand by for extraction in thirty seconds."

Black Widow glanced around the shed, the enemy agents were loading another missile. "I don't know if we have that long."

The missile was loaded. The three Avengers prepared themselves for another explosion when a large, black SUV barged out of nowhere. It thundered through the group of gunmen, scattering and wounding them, before racing toward the three awed agents.

Marcy poked her head out of the driver's side window. "Get in."

She didn't have to tell them twice. There seemed to be another agent sitting in the front passenger side so all three piled into the back. Steve sat in the middle with Hawkeye and Black Widow on either side. They slammed the doors shut behind them and the vehicle tore off, tires squealing.

"Nice save, Marcy," Hawkeye said. "I didn't know you were put on this mission."

"I wasn't," she replied. "I happened to be in the area when I caught your distress signal. I was on the way home from picking my mom up at the airport."

Captain America leaned forward, concerned he did not hear that correctly. "I'm sorry?"

From the front passenger seat, a woman who appeared to be in her early 50's turned to them, her smile bright when she saw Hawkeye.

"Clint! So lovely to see you, darling!"

The corners of Hawkeye's mouth suddenly ticked up into a surprised smile. "Claudia. It's been a while."

"Oh, too long, dear. Far too long." Marcy's mother then turned her attention to Black Widow. "And Natasha, you look lovely as ever."

She shrugged. "Well, considering what we just went through."

The older woman waved a well manicured hand. "Oh, this is nothing. You should have seen us when we were in Istanbul and-"

"Not right now, mother," Marcy cut her off in a tight voice. "We're not out of this yet."

Behind them, three military-grade jeeps raced after them, each carrying several fully armed Hydra agents. Marcy stepped on the gas. Black Widow rolled down the window as bullets ricocheted off the back window of the SUV. She fired at the closest vehicle, knocking one man off the top. But the bullets kept coming.

Hawkeye rolled down his window and fired the last of his arrows. It hit the tire of the first jeep and the vehicle went careening out of control, flipping over on its hood.

"That's one down, but I'm out," he announced.

Natasha wordlessly reached over Captain America and handed Hawkeye one of her guns. The two continued to fire out of the windows.

Then, the older woman's eyes finally fell on the middle passenger in the back seat. "I don't think we've met before. I'm Claudia Shepherd, Marcy's mom."

Sitting there, shield at his knees with nothing else to do, the captain nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Claudia clutched her chest, looking at her daughter. "Oh, he's so polite, this one. Where did you find him?"

Marcy's eyes were glued to the traffic as she skirted around the cars. "In the ice near the north pole."

"Beg pardon?" her mother asked.

"Captain Steve Rogers, ma'am," he answered for her.

The older woman suddenly looked at him as if seeing him for the first time all over again. "Oh, Captain America, of course." She laughed at herself. "The uniform should have given it away, what was I thinking?" She turned to address her daughter, a hand on her knee. "I must say, Marcy, he is far more handsome in person. Bigger, too. Do you see all the muscles he has?"

"He can hear you, mother," Marcy cut in with a tight voice. "And I'm trying to drive."

"Oh goodness me, Captain Rogers, where are my manners?" Claudia continued, ignoring her daughter. "It's such a tight fit back there, you should have the front seat. Here, I'll switch with you. Just let me get my purse."

Marcy glanced to the side just in time to see her mother's back end thrust in her face as she attempted to climb into the back.

"Mom! Now is not the time!" she barked. "We're in the middle of a fight!"

"I was just trying to-"

"Sit down and put your seat belt on!" Marcy glanced in the back, fire in her eyes. "All of you! Put your seat belts on!"

Click. Click. Click.

All seat belts were on. All Avengers sat stiff and silent. Marcy gunned the engine.

The SUV lurched forward, the two pursuing jeeps at its bumper. The radio came on. Marcy glanced at her rear view mirror, locking eyes with Captain America before assessing the two vehicles behind them.

They sped off onto the busier roads of the city, bullets chasing after them.

"You know, Marcy," her mother began. "if you take the exit onto center street and then..."

The rest of what she said was drowned out as Marcy pointedly turned up the radio so loud no normal speech could be heard. Her mother huffed in surrender and let it be.

In the back, Captain America couldn't help but feel the situation had become a bit surreal. They were all strapped in the back like good little children, radio blaring some song he never heard before. Black Widow sat calmly to his right, looking like they were out on a family vacation. To his left, Hawkeye nodded his head to the beat of The Bangels' "Walk Like an Egyptian", fingers tapping on his knee.

"Shouldn't we be doing something?" the captain asked above the noise.

"Take it easy and let her work," Clint said. "She's very good at this."

"I thought she just made the coffee!" Steve protested.

The SUV raced through traffic, dodging cars right and left as it passed them up. The base of the music thrummed all around them. The hail of bullets unable to break the thick glass of the SHIELD issue vehicle at their backs.

It was a Sunday and the traffic was sparse. The SUV, though heavy for protection, was slower than the military vehicles tearing after them.

"Stupid, heavy boat," Marcy muttered to herself.

Hydra caught up on either side of her, bombarding the vehicle from either side with heavy rapid fire.

"We need to lose them fast," Natasha said. "This car isn't going to take too much more abuse."

One of the Jeeps jerked toward them, intent on running them off the road. Marcy slammed on the breaks. The jeep swerved, nearly hitting its partner as they both raced far ahead of the stopped SHIELD vehicle.

Marcy instantly put them in reverse, pulling the car even further away from the enemy. She turned her head, one arm grabbing the back of her seat.

"Duck your head, Captain."

Captain America bent forward, allowing her to see out the back window as the SUV now raced in reverse through incoming traffic. Captain America felt assured they were going to die in a head on collision as they dodged one honking car after another. Marcy remained calm, even mouthing the words of the song as they drove.

If you want to find all the cops  
They're hanging out in the donut shop  
They sing and dance  
(Oh whey oh)  
They spin the clubs cruise down the block.

By then, the two jeeps had turned around and were racing back toward them, also fighting their way through the incoming traffic. The three opposite-driving vehicles raced onto a freeway bridge and Marcy slammed on the breaks once more. This time, however, she didn't move forward. A car quickly swerved, narrowly missing the stalled vehicle.

"Um, there's two semis coming," Captain America noticed with a quick glance out the back. We need to move."

Marcy faced forward. "Activate front cannons," she told the vehicle's computer. "Fire."

Two large automatic barrels appeared out of the hood of the SUV and completely obliterated the concrete safety blockade on the bridge.

"Semi's coming!" Captain America reminded.

The two jeeps were closing in from the front as well.

Marcy gunned the engines. The SUV lurched forward, tires squealing. It launched itself off the bridge and into the open air. Down below, a second freeway ran perpendicular to the bridge. As they soared through the air, a massive trailer carrying a nearly full load of brand new cars appeared below them.

As if placed by the hand of God Himself, the SUV landed in the last slot of the trailer, which just happened to be the only empty one. Above, one jeep swerved to get out of the way of the incoming semis, colliding with its partner. The two vehicles totaled themselves in a ball of fire.

Captain America glanced back at the explosion before letting out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.

Hawkeye smiled at him, cool as a cucumber. "I told you she was good at this."

Marcy glanced through her rear view mirror, lowering the volume of the radio. "Natasha, do you want to let us down?"

"Can't," she replied, holding up her empty clip. "I'm out."

"Mother, there's a gun in the glove box."

Claudia reached for the weapon. But instead of handing it back to Natasha, she rolled down the window herself. Leaning out, it took two shots before the lock was broken and the SUV was allowed to slide off the ramp and onto the street. They took off down the road, eager to put more distance between them and the attack site.

Black Widow climbed over the captain, grabbing the radio receiver on the dashboard. "HQ, this is Alpha Team, Black Widow speaking. Extraction was successful. If we can get more ammo we're ready to go back in."

Nicholas Fury himself responded on the other line. "No need. The situation has been contained. Return home Alpha Team."

Black Widow furrowed her brow. "Are you sure you don't need us?"

"You're not the only competent agents I have, you know," Fury shot back. "We sent in a second wave and just the mere threat of unleashing Bruce Banner on them sent most of their guys out in surrender. Situation is under control. Return home, Alpha Team."

* * *

"So, you were a SHIELD agent yourself," Steve surmised as he walked outside the parameter of SHIELD HQ. The older woman at his side had one hand resting on his arm as he guided her around.

"Yes I was. As was my father, in fact," Claudia Shepherd confirmed. "He was in the US Marines before that and was one of the first agents invited to SHIELD after it was founded. His specialty was extraction- much like Marcy's, as you saw. He liked making sure he got his men out safely."

"But you weren't extraction?" Steve then asked.

"Me? No, I wasn't too good at the waiting part. I was in espionage. I liked thrill of the mission, the secrecy, the excitement. I could never sit still too long back in those days. Too much to see, too much to do."

"I'm sorry if this is a rude question, ma'am. But you and Agent Gray don't have the same last name. Was she adopted?"

Claudia patted his arm with a laugh. "No, no. She's mine. Her father and I never married. Times were different back then." She smiled with sweet nostalgia. "I had been separated from my team, hunted by the enemy, trekking through backwoods and forest lands. I was hurt and exhausted when I stumbled upon her father's farm. He found me passed out in his barn and took care of me. We fell in love."

"That's terribly romantic, ma'am."

"It was," Claudia agreed with stars in her eyes. "He was such a rugged, serious man. I loved it. We couldn't get enough of each other. I would take any opportunity to visit him, but he wanted me to quit SHIELD. We had Marcy, but he wouldn't marry me as long as I continued working. He said his heart couldn't take letting go of me time after time, not knowing if that would be the time I wouldn't come back."

"I can understand that," Steve said softly.

Claudia gave him a thoughtful look. "Have you known my daughter long, Captain?"

Steve took a moment to think about it. "I believe we've been working together for the past several months. But there are a lot of people in that building, so I'm afraid I didn't notice her right away. Even though, apparently, she would greet me every morning." He admitted the last part apologetically.

Claudia didn't seem to hold that against him. "Yes, well, Marcy has always been very good at fading into the background. It's very helpful to her job, however, not so helpful at making friends. But that's who she has always been. You see, Captain, my Marcy is one of those girls you don't notice unless you slow down and take the time to look. Like a flower in a blooming garden. You can't fully appreciate its individual beauty until you stop and take the time to really see what you're looking at."

"Mom, there you are," Agent Gray called as she approached them. "They issued us a new car. I've already transferred your bags."

"Oh, lovely dear." Claudia turned from her daughter to the man on her arm. "Captain, have you ever considered asking Marcy on a date?"

Steve's jaw fell open. Marcy's dropped twice as far, her eyes wide in horror.

"I think you two would be just a splendid match," the older woman continued.

"Well, I uh..." Steve floundered.

"Mom, please. I'm sure Captain Rogers has more important things to do."

"Even captains have downtime. Captain Rogers, you don't have a girlfriend, do you?"

"Uh, no ma'am, but-"

"See? Why not take my daughter out? She's such a homebody. She could use a boyfriend."

"Well, I..."

Marcy's face was bright red by now. "Mom, I'm sure he is quite capable of getting his own-"

"Oh come now, you two should go out and have a little fun."

"Please, Mom, you're being rude."

"Come now, Marcy, you're a beautiful girl. You could get any man you want. Don't you think she's beautiful, Captain?"

"I, uh..."

"Mom, please drop it!"

"Don't be so dramatic, Marcy, it's just a little-"

"HE DOESN'T WANT TO!" Marcy barked out, finally silencing her mother.

Claudia blinked several times at her daughter, her mouth struggling to find the words.

"The car is waiting," Marcy then said in a more gentle voice. "Let's get you home."

Marcy silently mouthed "I am so sorry," to Steve before Claudia allowed her daughter to silently lead her away.

Steve watched them go, not saying a word.


	5. DNR

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, faved, watched, and/or read so far. I had an anonymous question in the reviews about last chapter, asking why Tony didn't help while the others were being attacked. Remember, Tony doesn't work for SHIELD. He's neither one of their agents nor is he informed of missions. Tony also doesn't live in New York. His main house was in Malibu (before it was exploded in Iron Man 3), but it's safe to assume that he has several houses all over the country/world. Once of which is the Stark Tower in New York, but it's certainly not where he spends all his time. Chances are he wasn't even in town when the previous chapter happened. Good question though! Thanks all for the reviews!

DNR

"Natasha!"

She winced at the sound of her first name by the obnoxiously familiar voice."You haven't, by any chance, seen Agent Gray around, have you?"

The redhead sighed. "I don't know, Stark. Why aren't you asking Fury?"

"Because when I do, he says bad words at me."

Natasha muttered something in Russian that might have also been bad words. Tony couldn't be sure. "Don't you think you're taking this coffee thing a little too far?" she then added in English.

"No, the coffee's fine. The rest of Fury's little worker bees finally managed to concoct a decent brew. " He sipped his cup loudly. "I'm here on behalf of my friend Bruce over there." He motioned down the hall to where Bruce Banner hid around the corner as soon as Natasha glanced his way.

"You see, Red," Tony continued, "despite attempts to keep him busy around here with all your side projects, he still keeps tabs on what's going on in this place. And he just so happened to notice that a group of Fury's flunkies went out three days ago, our own Man out of Time in the lead. They all came back, wounded included. But I can tell you with a certainty that, even though this coffee is passable, it was not made by Agent Gray. So where is she?"

Natasha attempted to keep her poker face, but Tony caught the tightening of her jaw. Something about this bothered her, and that something wasn't necessarily him.

"I wasn't a part of the mission," she said as she shook free of the billionaire and started off. "You'll have to ask Fury, I've got nothing to say."

Tony eyed her shapely back end over his coffee mug as the agent strode off. Once she was gone, Bruce revealed himself and approached his friend.

"See? I knew we shouldn't have said anything. Now she's mad at us."

"More specifically, mad at me. Since I'm the one who has the balls to say something."

"Come on, Tony, I have to work with these people until my contract is up. I didn't want to cause any problems, I just wanted to make sure she was okay. We should just let it go."

Tony raised a brow at him. "Do you want to let it go?"

"Well, yeah- I mean, no- but I'm sure SHIELD looks out for their own, right? If anything really serious happened to her, they would know and they'd say something."

Tony handed his coffee to Bruce and pulled out his phone. He hacked into SHIELD's files in minutes and pulled up Agent Gray's file.

"One thing to never forget about SHIELD, Bruce," Tony said as he showed him the phone screen, "they _never_ tell you everything."

In Agent Gray's File, under status it read in bold, red letters: Lost Contact. Next to those letters flashed three more. DNR. Those letters again. What did that mean?

"Great," Bruce bemoaned. "So what do we do about that?"

"We could find out where she is and wreck up the place," Tony offered.

The scientist huffed. "You and me? She'd never have a chance. We'd bring the place down on top of her, not save her. We would be more help if she asked us to water her plants while she was gone."

Tony suddenly tipped his head as a thought came to him. "How many days has she been missing?"

* * *

"Hurry. What if someone sees us?" Bruce hissed, as he tried to discretely cover Tony while he picked the lock of the apartment door.

"Sees us and thinks what?" Tony shot back at a normal volume. "That a world renown billionaire and super hero is breaking into a middle class apartment? Please." The last word was punctuated with a click as the door swung open.

The two walked in and Bruce was happy to close the door behind him into the safety of the apartment. The place was cleaned, but the air held a stuffiness to it that told no one had been home to open a door or a window for several days.

Immediately, a gray tabby cat greeted them and wound itself around their legs, meowing hungrily. Bruce allowed it to lead him to the bathroom where he was sure to find an empty food bowl. Tony to a moment to nose around the rest of the place in hopes of finding some evidence as to where the owner of the apartment had gone.

Unfortunately, Agent Gray was not in the habit of leaving top secret files around where anyone could see them. Tony did, however, find card board cut outs of himself and Captain America. He was a bit disappointed to discover them stuffed in the bedroom closet instead of on full, proud display as he would have imagined.

Upon leaving the bedroom, he encountered Bruce walking back up the hall with a cat carrier in one hand and a full bag of supplies in the other.

"Woah, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking the cat with us," Bruce said pragmatically. "We can't leave it here."

"I can't take it," Tony insisted. "Pepper is extremely allergic and she's coming down to the tower this weekend for some special alone time. So I can't have that furball cock-blocking-"

"I thought she was allergic to strawberries," Bruce cut him off.

"Either way, that animal is not coming with me."

"I'll take care of it."

"Take care of it where?" Tony countered. "Do you even have a place? You practically live at SHIELD HQ."

"He can stay in my lab. I owe Agent Gray."

Tony looked at his friend's determined expression. "Whatever you say, boss."

* * *

"Hey guys," Steve greeted them when they returned to the SHIELD central building. He paused and asked the one question that lower lever agents had been dying to know, but were too afraid of Dr. Banner to speak. "Why do you have a cat?"

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Tony beat him to it. "Allow me to answer that question with a more pressing one. Since when are you in the habit of leaving agents behind when you go out on SHIELD errands, Cap?"

Steve furrowed his brows at the shorter man. "What are you talking about?"

"You had a mission several days back? Agent Gray went out as well?"

"Agent Gray?" Steve returned, confused. "She goes out in the field?"

"Yes, she went out-"

"Are you just asking because of the coffee?"

"It_ is _excellent coffee, but pay attention. This is more important. She went out on that mission- your mission- and every one else came back but her."

"No," Steve immediately denied. "She wasn't there. I never saw her on the team. Her name isn't on the roster."

"Then where is she?" Tony was no longer looking at Steve, but the man standing behind him.

Steve turned around to see Nick Fury glaring at them all.

"Is that a cat in there?" the director demanded. "I'm not running a damn zoo, this is a place of business!"

"It's Agent Gray's cat," Bruce replied, his voice a bit small, but firm in the face of the glaring SHIELD director. "She hasn't been home to take care of it for several days."

"Why is that, Fury?" Steve asked, rounding on his superior. "Was Agent Gray on my team?"

"She was not a part of your mission," he responded curtly.

"But was she on that plane when you shipped us out?"

"Yes, she was. But what she does and what happens to her has nothing to do with you."

Steve took a step back, guilt hitting him heavily. He had worked so hard to make sure all his soldiers made it back home. "I didn't even see here there..." he muttered.

"Because that's her job," Fury insisted. "I pay her to be invisible. No one sees Agent Gray if she doesn't want them to."

"And even sometimes when she does," Tony muttered, looking pointedly at Steve.

"If I knew she was there, I could have gotten her out!" Steve shot back. "How can I help people- YOUR people- if you don't tell me these things?

"What's DNR?" Tony cut in before Fury could counter. "It's in her file. She's definitely too healthy and young to be given a Do Not Resuscitate order. So what does it mean?"

One good eye was all Fury needed to stare the three down properly. "That information is on a need to know basis and you three do not need to know." He turned on his heel and stormed down the hall with a "Get that damn cat out of my sight!"

The three Avengers watched him go, none of them satisfied with how the conversation ended.

"DNR," a female voice announced, causing them to spin around. Natasha had snuck up behind them without any of them knowing. "It means Do Not Recover. Sometimes agents are so deep in that there's no way to get a recovery team in there should something go wrong. The agent has to get themselves out. That's DNR."

"But that wasn't the kind of mission we were on," Steve argued. "It was a raid. Everybody went in at once. There was no reason we couldn't pull everyone out at the same time."

"It wasn't your fault, Steve. She probably just missed the pick up. I'm sure she's fine. She knows how to get herself home."

"That's not the point," Steve shot back, clearly frustrated.

"Does she even know about this?" Bruce asked.

"Sure she does," Natasha insisted. "If she didn't agree to it, she wouldn't have gone. She knows what's expected."

"And Barton knows, too?" Tony said. "I haven't seen him around lately."

"Oh, he knows. In fact he's under house arrest right now. Clint has a past history of ignoring DNRs, so SHIELD has been keeping an eye on him."

"I'm sure that makes him happy."

"Oh, he's pissed. But there's nothing he or I can do about it- no matter how bad we want to. We have our orders and Agent Gray knew the risks going in. Now we have to wait for her to get herself out."

"Something tells me most if not all of Agent Gray's missions are DNRs," Tony said with a raised brow.

"She has a special... condition that makes it necessary," Natasha confirmed.

"And that would be?"

"It's classified. You'll have to ask Fury if you want clearance to that information."

There was a nearly audible groan of disappointment from the three men.

"Look, it sucks, I know. But she'll make it back home," Natasha said. "Have a little faith."

* * *

Steve Rogers felt very little room for faith at the moment. Every time he thought there were no more secrets to be kept from him, new ones popped up. Every time he felt he would be okay with how SHIELD ran things, something else made him question their morals. How was he expected to continue to work for them? Why couldn't they place more value in the people he was trying to protect?

The renewed thought of Agent Gray left a heaviness in his gut. She had been left alone out there while he and the rest of his mission was flown to safety. What kind of leader was he to leave her like that? How did he not notice she was on the plane? He had counted the heads, he knew he did. There was not an extra one. Everyone on his roster was accounted for. So where had the mistake happened?

As he combed over the mission in his mind, Steve recalled when they were trying to get into the Hydra base, the enemy had them pinned down outside. The automatic base defenses had been so strong, they almost pulled back to retreat. Then suddenly, Hydra's defense grid went offline. SHIELD was then able to push their way inside and take over the base.

Had that been Agent Gray? If so, how did she get inside when the rest of his agents couldn't?

The questions ate at him. Even as the motorcycle engine roared, putting distance behind him and SHIELD, making him disappear into the city's night, he could not get away from the guilt. He could blame SHIELD for their secrets all he wanted, but the truth was he had been the one who was there. He was the one responsible for getting everyone home and he had failed.

He felt used. He felt like an idiot. And he felt if Agent Gray ever did make it back alive, she should never forgive him. She always looked so timid and small when he saw her. Did a girl like that really have a chance out there at all?

With the agent on his mind, Steve found himself driving toward her neighborhood. Despite knowing it wouldn't help the situation, he pulled up outside her building and sat while the engine idled. What could he do for her? There had to be something he could do.

Steve looked up at the dark apartment window and then squinted. It really wasn't all that dark. There was a dim light on inside. Was someone in there? Or did that idiot Stark just leave the poor girl's lights on?

Parking his motorcycle, Steve climbed up the stairs to check. He found the apartment door left ajar and his body stiffened. Not even Tony was so careless to leave the door open. Something was wrong. The shield sitting on his back now adorned his arm as he crept quietly inside.

The place was still and in neat order. The single source of light was a dim floor lamp in the living room. It hovered over a motionless form curled up in the chair. Agent Gray had a comforter pulled awkwardly over her, a spilled glass of water at her feet. She was dirty and disheveled, a few bruises and a dried, bloody cut on her face.

Steve rushed over to her, instantly checking her neck for a pulse. Agent Gray stirred at the touch of his wind-chilled fingers and jerked back at the sight of a large male form looming over her.

"Hey, it's okay," Steve said, gently holding her arms. "It's Captain Rogers. No one is going to hurt you."

Agent Gray blinked as she glanced around the room, as if noticing for the first time she made it home. "Where's my cat? I need to feed him."

She attempted to stand and immediately became dizzy. Steve stooped to catch her before she fell over, pressing her body against his to keep her upright. Agent Gray's face grew warm as she felt his heart beat. Or maybe that was the fever.

She could barely stand under her own power. Steve bent to pick her up in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. The mission suit she wore was just as dirty and torn as her body.

"I need to get you to a hospital," Steve told her.

She mumbled something that may have been a weak protest, but she had not the energy to fully express it. Steve instantly carried the limp body outside and down the stairs.

There was a hospital just two blocks down, Steve had noticed it as he drove up. It made more sense just to drive her down himself. It would take less time to get her help. He set her down on the motorcycle seat side-saddle and quickly shrugged off his jacket. The wide shoulder line swallowed her, but she pulled it around herself as he got on behind her.

His long arms gripped the handle bars, caging her in. His chest, wide like a brick wall, pressed against her.

"Can you hold on to me?" he asked softly.

Heart fluttering, she put her arms around his torso, feeling the warmth from his body.

"Yes," she said. She would hold on to him as long as he wished.

* * *

The roar of the motorcycle engine swallowed up any other sound as he drove to the hospital. Agent Gray seemed nearly unconscious by the time he pulled up. Her body was light and limp as he carried her inside. Medical personnel rushed them when they were spotted.

Steve was directed over to a gurney. Agent Gray's eyes fluttered open when he gently laid her down.

"I'm sorry you got left behind," he told her.

She responded with a weak smile. "At least you came back." Her eyes closed as the nurses wheeled her away to the examining rooms.


	6. The Favor

The Favor

Jillian had stopped him in the hall for some conversation- she had done this a few times before without incident. But today was different. Today, Steve found himself slowly backed up against the wall, Jillian pushing further into his personal space.

"So what do you think?" Jillian asked. "Maybe you and I could go out for drinks sometime?"

Steve could barely register the words. Her body was too close to his, and all he could do was stare at that purple hair hovering just below his chin line. Why purple? What possessed these modern girls to do that to their hair? Steve understood that girls liked to be individuals and express themselves. He wished them all the luck and happiness with that. But these modern girls... so many of them were more than he was ready for.

His back was flattened against the wall. He had run out of retreating room.

Jillian moved into his space, her breasts lightly brushing against him for just a momentary tease. "Then, maybe later I could show you my new place. It's really nice." She raised a manicured nail and scraped it lightly over the material on his chest.

Steve's heart fluttered, the sensation brought goosebumps to his arms and a ripple down his spine. Yet, he was not enjoying himself. Inwardly, he felt ridiculous that he, Captain America, didn't know how to handle the situation with one pushy woman. He was pathetic.

Jillian stood on her toes, leaning up so her breath stirred over his mouth. She smelled like cigarettes.

"We could even try out my new bed," she rasped.

Steve's mouth fell open, trying to find the words as his brain scrambled in all directions.

"The springs are quite nice."

His mind went blank.

"Steve," a harsh, commanding female voice cut through the tension.

Steve would have guessed it to be Natasha. No woman commanded attention like she did. But it wasn't the confident redhead, but Agent Gray who stood before the two, hands on her hips.

"I've been waiting for you," she demanded, looking them over. "Those reservations won't keep all night. You're the one who begged me to go. So are you coming?"

Steve worked his mouth again, and this time he found his voice. "Right. Right. I can't wait. I've been looking forward to it all week, really." He glanced at Jillian who had finally backed up a little. "Sorry, but I've got to go."

The purple-haired woman's face went tight as if she smelled something foul. She gave the stink face to Agent Gray but said nothing.

Steve hurried away, eager to take advantage of his window of opportunity.

Agent Gray put an arm loosely around his torso in a fairly innocent touch with a "Come on, babe." She threw a warning glare at Jillian as they walked off.

Steve was still reeling from the whole encounter as they turned the next corner and Agent Gray's arm instantly dropped away from him.

"How did I do, Captain Rogers?" she asked in that softer tone he was more familiar with.

Steve saw her small, secretive smile and couldn't help but smile back. "I think you saved me."

"You looked like you needed a save."

"Jillian is a very nice girl, but she... I just didn't..."

"You didn't want to hurt her feelings," Agent Gray finished for him. "I didn't mind being the bad guy for you."

She kept walking and Steve had to increase his pace to keep up with her.

"I went back to the hospital to visit you, but you were already gone."

Marcy smiled. "It wasn't serious. I just hadn't eaten or slept for a few days. They didn't keep me too long."

"You weren't at your place either."

"I stayed at my mother's while I recovered." She paused in her steps to turn to him. "Thanks for checking on me though. I'm sorry you went to all that trouble."

Steve shoved his hands in his jacket. "To be honest, I felt like I owed you."

Marcy started down the hall again, stepping into her office. "I don't see why. I wasn't part of your mission. I wasn't your responsibility."

The soldier lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watched her gather some files and a notebook. "Be honest with me. You had to get yourself home because our plane left without you."

Marcy took her files and brushed past him. "You didn't know I was there. It wasn't your fault."

Steve followed her as she continued down the hall toward the elevator. "And how exactly did I miss you? I counted everyone: both when we left and came back."

They paused at the elevator. Marcy pushed the button as she glanced at him with a secretive smile. However, she offered no answer.

"Fine," Steve surrendered. The elevator dinged and they both got on. "But I still feel like I owe you. For the mission and for... that back there."

Marcy raised a brow at him as the doors closed. "Captain America owes me a favor?" She pressed a button to one of the upper floors.

"Sure do. Name it; anything."

As the elevator rose, Marcy produced a pen and scribbled something down in her notebook. Then she tore off the top part of the paper and handed it to him. Steve read over the words and then looked at her curiously.

"Say it," Marcy said. "But don't be silly about it. Say it like you mean it."

A smile tugged at the soldier's mouth. He tipped his head toward her, blue eyes looking her in the face. One hand rested on his belt.

"Just doing my duty, ma'am."

Marcy jerked her head away when she could no longer keep a serious face. A smile forced its way on her lips wider and wider. By the time the elevator announced their floor, she was biting her bottom lip to hold back the huge grin taking over her face.

The doors opened and she stepped out.

"Are you sure there's not something I can do for you?" Steve called after her.

"You've already done it," Marcy called over her shoulder. There was a lightness in her voice he had never heard before. Steve found himself wanting to hear it again.

Marcy continued down the hall to a desk situated before large double doors with a huge SHIELD logo painted from floor to ceiling.

"These are for Director Fury when he gets in tomorrow," she told the secretary. "Have a good night."

"You, too, Agent Gray."

Marcy turned back down the hall to find that Steve Rogers and the elevator that brought them up were both gone. She took a deep breath to swallow the disappointment that he had not waited for her. He had no reason to. As she waited for the elevator to come back up, she considered herself lucky to merely have his attention to herself for a moment. Besides, he gave her a fond memory to look back upon and she couldn't help but smile again when she thought of his face when he said those words.

After returning to her office for her jacket and switching to a pair for more comfortable shoes, Marcy walked out of the building, toward the parking lot to retrieve her car.

"Agent Gray."

The male voice calling her name caused her heart to flutter and she froze in her steps before turning around. There stood Steve Rogers next to his motorcycle, two helmets in his hands.

"Sorry I left earlier, I had to run down and grab my extra helmet."

She approached him, eyes curious. "Why is that?"

"I saw you once, just standing there looking at my bike."

Marcy glanced away a little embarrassed to be caught.

Steve gently put a helmet in her hands. "I figured out how I'll make it up to you."

* * *

The roar of the motorcycle engine cut out all opportunities for conversation, but Marcy didn't care. This was enough, she couldn't ask for anything else after tonight. She could die happy having Steve Rogers in her arms, holding him from behind as they drove through the night streets of the city.

The night was in his hands and she was satisfied to leave her fate with him. He could take her directly to her apartment or drive her back to SHIELD headquarters any time he wished. Or, they could journey into the night until the sun came up. It was all up to him.

Marcy had her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of his body against the crispness of the cool night air when the motorcycle slowed to a stop. She looked out at the pier, the lights, and all the people wandering through the shops.

"What are we doing here?"

Steve removed his helmet. "I'm hungry, are you hungry?"

She grinned. "Starving."

There was a small seafood place right on the pier where they decided to get fish and fries. As Marcy reached for her cash, Steve stopped her.

"No need, I'm paying."

"You don't have to," she argued. "I've got money."

"I know, but I owe you, remember?"

She smirked. "Trust me, you've paid me back in spades already."

"But I haven't done anything for you yet!" Steve protested in a surprisingly emphatic voice. "Why do you expect so little of me?"

Marcy didn't know how to tell him. He was world- famous, one of a kind. Attractive, likable, and sought after by so many women far more beautiful than she. How could she explain she felt lucky he even looked her way?

* * *

"So I called her, mostly to get Natasha off my back," Steve said after chewing another bite of his fish burger. "But I really just wanted to see if I could do it. I mean, it's been ninety years since I asked a girl out- at least. And I certainly wasn't a pro at it back then either."

"And her name was Sharon?" Marcy asked as she sipped her straw. "I think I know which agent you're talking about. She quit and joined the CIA, right?"

"Right. The whole Hydra thing didn't sit well with her. I didn't blame her at all. We went out and it was... pretty nice. But then I found out her last name was Carter."

Marcy looked at him blankly. She didn't see what was wrong with Agent Carter.

"As in Peggy Carter?"

Marcy's eyes widened then in understanding.

"Turns out she's her grand niece or something close to that."

"That's a little weird," Marcy blurted out. "Uh- I mean, I'm sure she's very nice."

"No, she is very nice," Steve replied. "She's beautiful and smart and she certainly knows how to shoot a gun. But you're right, it was weird. And maybe it's my own paranoia, but I couldn't help but think SHIELD was trying to set us up. What? Since Peggy and I..." He paused and sighed. "So I'm supposed to date her relatives now? I'm supposed to transpose my feelings to another person because they share the same genes? How is that fair to either of us?"

"It's not," Marcy said quietly. "I'm sorry that happened to you. SHIELD can be way more nosy than they need to be sometimes. Just remember, you don't have to date or love anyone you don't want to. You don't even have to go looking. You can do anything you want in your own time and no one has the right to push you faster than you're ready."

Steve looked over at her and the side of his mouth ticked up. "Thanks. No one's really said that to me before. It's been nothing but pushing since I woke up here."

By then, Marcy's mouth was stuffed with fries and she covered her mouth before politely mumbling a "no problem".

Steve watched her as she tried to swallow her mouth full of food. "Sorry, I'm unloading on you. I just don't really have a lot of people to talk to."

"Not at all. I don't mind being a sounding board and I'm quite good at keeping secrets." She leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm a spy, you know."

She was rewarded with Steve's smile.

"So what about you, Agent Gray? Please tell me you have better luck at this than I do."

She huffed loudly. "I wish. The last guy I asked out was a horrific disaster."

"Wait, you asked him?"

"My mistake entirely, believe me."

Steve paused. "Do you... want to tell me about it?"

Marcy's smile disappeared and she pulled away. "I'd rather not."

Steve was surprised how much that hurt his feelings and he began to gather up his empty food wrappers. "No, that's fine. After all, the whole of SHIELD knows all my personal business, but of course I shouldn't expect the same consideration from anyone else."

He got up to leave.

"He hated me," Marcy called after him, causing Steve to freeze in his tracks. "He laughed in my face when I asked him. He told all my co-workers how pathetic I was. It was mortifying."

With brows drawn, Steve slowly turned around and sat back down.

"You're aware what I do at SHIELD, right?" Marcy asked.

Steve shook his head, realizing for the first time he knew nothing about this woman.

"I was transferred to the main building after the whole Hydra thing to help sniff out any remaining moles. Fury has always been suspicious of enemy eyes and ears in the organization. I go from one station to the other making sure our agents are legit."

"So you..."

"I'm a nark, yes. I am the interior spy. I know what everyone does, what their favorite hobbies are, who's wife is cheating on them and who is cheating on their wives."

"And you tell all this to Fury."

Marcy frowned. "I tell none of it to Fury. That's none of his business. I only tell him when I see an agent that needs further investigation. It's unfortunate that we need people like me, but in light of the Hydra fiasco, I am necessary."

"Let me guess, this guy found out what you do," Steve surmised.

"And he told all my coworkers. Everyone hated me after that. No one would talk to me. And this guy, he would throw my affection for him in my face any chance he got. It was so bad I had to be transferred."

Steve reflexively clenched his fists, suddenly feeling protective of her. "I don't suppose he works in the main building."

"He doesn't work anywhere," Marcy said quietly. "He died on a mission almost a year ago."

"Oh." Steve wasn't sure he should say he was sorry for that.

"I was with a group sent to pull his team out. I was there when he died." Her voice fell lower in volume. "I did try to save him, but he passed before I could get him out. I had to leave his body behind." She then sucked in air and shook herself of her melancholy. "Turns out he most likely was a sleeper agent of Hydra to begin with, which is why he had such a massive problem with me. Still... I guess we'll never know for sure."

She forced a smile to her face and shrugged. Steve couldn't believe she still felt sad about a man who not only treated her so horribly, but was the enemy. This man could have killed her without a second thought and she still mourned his death in a way.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been a jerk about making you tell me this."

"No, it's fine," she sighed. "It's over with and I've learned my lesson: no more making the first move."

Steve looked her in the face. "I hope this one incident doesn't stop you from telling people your true feelings."

Marcy shook her head with a rueful laugh. "Oh, it's not my first time getting turned down by a guy, just the worst. And, I think, the last. From now on, I'll let the guy make the first move. And if there's no one interested, I'll just keep doing my own thing." She loudly slurped the remnants of her drink.

Steve tipped his head thoughtfully. He could liken such an idea to his own situation. "That sounds like a very good plan."

* * *

With the more somber tone of their past conversation, Steve thought it best to let Marcy decide the next move. If it appeared she wished to go home, he would be happy to take her. But the brunette woman kept staring at the water front so he suggested they take a walk and check out the collection of shops in the area.

They didn't get too far when Marcy gasped at the small nickle arcade sign illuminated in electric neon. She immediately dragged Steve in, looking for a particular machine. They stopped before a very large apparatus where two teenage boys were dancing on large metal pads, trying to place their foot in the corresponding arrow as they scrolled across the screen.

"Just one quick game," Marcy promised. "I have to play Dance Dance whenever I see it. Just indulge me."

Steve made no argument and gallantly motioned to the machine as the boys finished their turn and stepped off. Marcy excitedly jumped on, digging into her pocket for change and counting the quarters. She then looked at Steve.

"Do you want to try it with me?"

The soldier immediately raised his palms in surrender. "I don't even know how to dance."

"This isn't dancing. You just stand on the arrows that the screen tells you. Come on, I'll set it on an easy level for you."

With a shrug, Steve acquiesced and stepped onto the second metal pad. He stood patiently as Marcy fiddled with all the settings for him and picked the song. As the music began, Steve was instantly aware Marcy had far more arrows on her screen than he did. Her legs were a blur while Steve had trouble catching the beat in the loud arcade.

On the second song, Marcy was winded so she picked an easier level for herself so she could keep an eye on Steve and help him get the beat. By the third song, Steve still stumbled, so Marcy took it on herself to try to play both pads at the same time, despite Steve's protests that he could do it himself.

Both were playfully pushing each other off their arrows when the machine announced they lost that round. The two stepped off the machine laughing and Steve found himself wondering when was the last time he laughed so hard.

As they turned back toward his parked motorcycle, Steve looked down at his companion. "Agent Gray, did you take me there just so you could show off to me?"

She threw back her head and laughed. "Yes, Steve, I wanted to show off my dorkiness by getting an average score on an outdated children's game." She suddenly caught herself. "Sorry, I meant Captain Rogers."

"Steve's fine, if you're comfortable with it."

"I'll keep that in mind. But I'll probably still refer to you by Captain at work."

"Fair enough. And I'll still refer to you as Agent Gray?"

She smirked. "Fine. You can call me Marcy if you must. But only when my coworkers aren't around. I don't want them thinking we're friends."

Steve couldn't help it, he laughed again.

* * *

Try as he might to avoid her, Steve was caught by Jillian the next day. She managed to corner him right off the elevator, blocking his way down the hall.

"How was your date last night, Captain?" she pressed with more than just a casual tone.

Date? He hadn't really thought of his night with Marcy as a date until then. Could he consider it a date? As far as Jillian was concerned, he would let her think it was.

"Very nice, thanks for asking," he nodded, trying to be on his way.

He caught a sharp look of jealousy from her as he left.

"I don't know what you see in her," she called after him. "That girl doesn't talk to anyone, she doesn't go anywhere. She's so boring."

Steve paused and turned to look at the purple-haired woman. Boring. Marcy Gray was anything but. She knew more secrets than Steve had ever kept and has the integrity to keep most of them to herself. She calmly faced danger when no one had her back and drove like she invented the laws of physics herself.

Jillian may have fancied herself a strong, independent woman, confident enough to wear any color of hair she wished. Working in SHIELD's statistics division, she was probably also a math genius. But she also worked a desk. Jillian would never see an actual mission. Moreover, she would never have a DNR in her file. She would never know what it was like to go into a dangerous situation alone, knowing she only had herself to rely on to get out.

And yet, Marcy Gray, the agent that extracted others when no one would extract her, still laughed without restraint and hoped for the future, and found time to be silly. Boring?

Steve looked Jillian in the eyes and shrugged. "Maybe I like boring."

He turned from her incredulous face and walked off. Secretly, Steve was left wondering about himself. Did he just admit that he liked... her?


	7. Death and Karaoke

Death and Karaoke

Steve walked home, sweaty and slightly winded from his early morning run, only to find Clint Barton standing at his doorstep while Natasha was bent over the lock, trying to pick it open.

"Can I help you two?" the soldier asked as he approached.

"You haven't been answering your phone," Clint accused.

"I was out," Steve responded flatly.

Natasha straightened and Steve noticed neither were in their SHIELD uniforms. Nor were they in street clothes. Both were dressed like they were going to church, wearing all black.

"Get showered and dressed quickly, Rogers," Natasha said, no apology in her at being caught trying to break into his place. "Do you have something nice to wear?"

"Good morning to you, too," Steve said as he fished for his keys.

"No time for pleasantries," Natasha insisted as she followed him inside his apartment.

"Is there ever?" Steve mumbled to himself.

"It's starting soon. We've got to go."

"And where exactly are we going?" Steve asked, a bit annoyed.

"Funeral."

"Who's?" Steve asked, suddenly concerned. In his world, it could be anyone's.

"Agent Gray's mother died," Clint responded for her.

Steve blinked at them. "Marcy's mother? But we all just saw her about a month ago. She looked fine. She wasn't... killed, was she?"

"The causes were natural, but very sudden," Clint explained. "And Marcy didn't tell anyone about it. We just caught wind of it by Fury this morning and we're running late."

"Give me ten minutes," Steve said.

* * *

The funeral was held on a grassy hill, the day sunny and warm. Several people were already gathered around. Clint pulled up and the three stepped out just as a nondescript clergyman began his eulogy. The trio traversed among the headstones toward the group of mourners.

Nick Fury, of course, was in attendance. As was Bruce Banner. Tony Stark and his girlfriend-slash-CEO Pepper Potts were spotted as well. Steve quickly noticed among the other faces that there was a running theme of those in attendance.

"Everyone here works for SHIELD," he whispered to Natasha. "Where's the family?"

"When you're with SHIELD, SHIELD is your family," she responded in a reverent tone.

They paused on the outskirts of the mourners and looked around.

"I don't see Marcy anywhere," Steve then said. "Did she come?"

"She's here," Clint assured him. "She knows how to blend when she doesn't want to be seen."

The voice of Agent Gray's mother suddenly popped into Steve's head. _Marcy is one of those girls you don't notice unless you slow down and take the time to look._ Steve closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. He stilled himself and then looked carefully among those gathered. He found her signature hair slipping out of its bun near the coffin.

"There she is," he said, nodding in the correct direction.

Clint immediately left him and stood next to Marcy's side. He slid his hand into hers and she squeezed it back tightly. Natasha moved over to stand supportively at her other side.

Steve remained a few paces back. He examined Marcy's profile, trying to gauge her emotional state. The woman's face was dry, but her eyes were wet. Yet, she didn't allow a single tear to spill as she stubbornly listened to the minister. Steve knew that face. He had worn it twice at each of his parents' funerals. Both her parents were gone now and she was alone, just as he had been. Steve wondered if anyone else in attendance understood her pain as much as he did at that moment.

When the eulogy had finished, Marcy stepped forward. She silently placed a bottle of pink nail polish on top of the coffin before it was lowered to its final resting place. At that time, the other mourners were invited forward to say their last good-byes. Several tossed down flowers or a handful of earth into the grave as a final sendoff.

The ever-elusive Agent Gray disappeared once more before those in attendance had finished.

* * *

"Pepper, my girl, there has been a wonderful change of plans."

Pepper paused before the stretch limo, door open and waiting to accept her. "Will these plans keep us long? Our flight leaves for Malibu in twenty minutes."

Tony sidled up to her, on hand resting on her hip, his face close to hers. "Need I remind you that I own that plane? It will leave when I say it leaves and not a second sooner."

She smiled at his mouth being so close to hers. "So what exactly is this wonderful change of plans?"

He pulled her a little closer. "I just got a call from Bruce. The gang's going out for dinner before we all split our separate ways."

"Well, I can't say no to that. Where are we going?"

"You ready for some karaoke?"

Pepper's mouth instantly dropped from surprise. "What?"

* * *

After a detour to pick up Bruce Banner, the fancy limo parked in front of a tiny hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar. Pepper was hesitant to get out, wondering if they might get mugged on their way in. The last thing she wanted was anything that would upset Dr. Banner.

But they made it inside without incident and Tony strolled up to the front counter if it were any other fancy restaurant.

"We're here for a reserved party, under Barton."

The teenage girl with orange dyed hair snapped her gum at him. "Oh yeah, it's the big room in the back. Go all the way down that hall."

Seeing as they weren't going to be personally escorted anywhere, Tony gave a quick glance back to Pepper before trekking down the hall. They passed several smaller rooms with glass windows and furniture inside. Only two were in use. One held a group of teens while another housed a child's birthday party.

When they reached the room at the very back, they found Clint, Natasha, and Marcy already present. The latter instantly stood when the three came in.

"Oh, Mr. Stark, you didn't have to come. I thought you would want to be heading home by now."

"One would think," Pepper quipped.

"Nonsense," Tony insisted, giving her a quick one-armed hug. "Tonight is about you, my dear. And making asses of ourselves," he added, nodding to the empty stage. "Alcohol will be involved I assume."

"If you wish," Marcy responded, and then turned to Pepper. "Hi, Ms. Potts, I'm Agent Gray. Marcy."

The women shook hands. "Hi, Pepper, please. I've heard much about your coffee. And also Tony's plans to keep you in his basement as his permanent barista. I've had to explain to him many times how illegal that is"

Marcy glanced at Tony, one eyebrow up.

"I'm sure I don't know what she's talking about," he insisted.

Bruce moved in next, giving Marcy a full hug, rubbing her back. "Hey, it will be okay, alright?" he said softly.

Her eyes watered a bit, but she smiled. "Thanks. And you still give awesome hugs."

As they all settled in, a young man in an apron came to take their orders and quickly returned with the alcohol Tony insisted they needed in order to get the singing started. He hardly had a single drink in him before insisting he and Dr. Banner sing the first song.

Bruce protested the entire way, but it was nearly impossible to tell Tony Stark no to anything. The two were half way through the worst rendition of Lorde's "Royals" ever when Steve Rogers entered the room. Tony belted out each word from memory while Bruce timidly mumbled along.

Pepper was laughing so hard from the two men on stage that she could barely manage more than a wave as the soldier passed her by. He stepped over Clint's legs, which were resting on the small table in the middle and sat himself on the other side of Marcy.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile. "Thanks for coming. I know this is silly, but Clint wanted to. My mom liked to drag us to karaoke every now and then. She insisted that 'people like us' still needed to do normal things once in a while. We thought it was fitting."

Steve leaned into her, talking into her ear to be heard above the lousy singing. "I don't know any of the songs, but I hope the moral support will be good enough."

"Always," she smiled.

The two science bros finished their song. Everyone clapped. Pepper was trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard. Tony didn't seem to mind and appeared rather pleased with himself that he had brought her so much glee. He plopped himself next to her and she leaned bonelessly against him, still chuckling.

"So you know," Marcy said to Steve, "someone's going to make you sing something before the night is through. Be prepared."

"I don't suppose they have any Jimmy Dorsey on their song list," Steve lamented.

Marcy suddenly started snapping her fingers as she broke into song:

Stay on the right side, sister  
Stay on the right side, sister  
Stay on the right side of the road

Look out for old man Satan  
He's on the wrong side waitin'  
Keep on the right side of the road

Once you let the devil take your hand  
You'll never get to hallelujah land  
I see a great day dawnin'  
You better heed my warnin'  
Stay on the right side of the road.

As she sang the upbeat, catchy tune, Steve's smile just grew wider and wider.

"You know the Dorsey Brothers Orchestra," he said in awe.

"I know that one song," she admitted, holding up a single finger. "That's all I know. My grandma listened to them when I was little, but that's the only one I remember."

Clint suddenly broke into loud applause, a nearly empty beer cup next to him. It was obvious he intended to get sloshed this night. "Sounds like Marcy wants to go next!" he announced.

She smiled and gave Steve a look that said 'See? Someone's going to make you do it, too.'

"Okay, she said. "Let me find a song."

* * *

Luke returned from delivering the ordered food from the group in the back karaoke room. He caught Travis, the other waiter as he came back from taking orders from the newest group to arrive.

"Dude, have you seen who's in our back room?"

"Nah," Travis replied. "I just got here. Who is it?"

"I think Tony Stark is back there," Luke said in a hushed voice.

"The billionaire?" Travis protested. "Freaking IRON MAN is at our place? No way."

"Seriously, dude, go look," Luke insisted. "The redhead chick, that's Black Widow and I swear Captain America just came in. I'm not kidding. The friggin' AVENGERS are in our back room getting drunk and singing karaoke."

* * *

Truth be told, none of them could sing well. Pepper had the best music sense among them, but the rest were awful. Still, it didn't stop them from having a good time. Songs were sung and large quantities of food were eaten. Equally large quantities of alcohol were also consumed as the singing grew louder and worse.

Two hours into the night, Clint grandly stood, clapping loudly to gain everyone's attention. He was clearly drunk off his ass, fighting to stand without swaying.

"Alright, I invoke the ancient rights of Karaoke. I paid for the room so I get to choose a song and choose who sings it. Marcy, Cap, you're up."

Marcy instantly stood while Steve looked confused. He hadn't attempted a single song yet that night.

"But I won't know the song," he insisted.

"Too bad," Marcy said with a grin. "Clint's right. He paid for the room so we gotta do it. Up."

She grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the stage.

Steve still looked unsure. "I'm just going to be standing here."

"Don't be such a stuck in the mud, Cap," Tony called. "Just read the words on the prompter."

"You'll be fine," Marcy encouraged. "Clint will just pick the most embarrassing song he can think of, we'll sing it horribly, and then you can sit down."

Realizing he was now being patronized, Steve decided to man up and be a good sport.

"Alright." He looked at Clint. "Give us your best shot."

Clint was grinning as he scrolled through the songs. "Oh, I plan to."

As Steve held his microphone, he was sure Clint would find some frilly love song for them to sing. Why else did he specifically ask for the two of them on stage? But as the music started, it had a fast, cheer-squad type beat. Marcy was already laughing as she recognized the song.

The words appeared on screen and Steve did his best to sing along.

Hey, hey, you, you  
I don't like your girlfriend  
No way, no way  
Think you need a new one  
Hey, hey, you, you  
I could be your girlfriend

By the second "girlfriend" Steve had stopped trying to sing the words and gave Clint a look.

The archer jabbed a finger at him. "Come on, do it! Don't be a pussy!"

Clint was so drunk right now.

Marcy kept trying to sing by herself because Steve wasn't going to play anymore. Clint got tired of it and promptly climbed the stage, taking the mic away from the soldier. He brought it to his lips and boldly sang the words himself without a care.

She's like, so whatever  
You could do so much better.  
I think we should get together now.  
And that's what everyone's talking about!

By the time the second verse started, Tony had joined them on the stage. Pepper added herself shortly after. Clint gave a beckoning finger as he sang and Natasha sashayed up to him, joining in the song. Bruce timidly allowed Tony to drag him up as well. Now, Steve was the only one _not_ singing the song until the music hit its bridge and the men suddenly went quiet.

The three women were left to chant the words, cheerleader style.

In a second you'll be wrapped around my finger  
'Cause I can, 'cause I can do it better  
There's no other  
So when's it gonna sink in?  
She's so stupid  
What the hell were you thinking?

The chorus started up again and everyone jumped back in. Except Steve. He just watched and shook his head. These were the people he worked with. This was his life now.

In the middle, Marcy sang with her eyes closed, loving every word. This was better than singing solo. This was better than staying at home by herself mourning her loss. Her mother would have approved. This was fun and hilarious, and she would remember this forever.

She opened her eyes and there was Steve, standing apart from them, watching them with arms folded over his chest. Watching her. Their eyes met and a small smile found its way to his face and she suddenly forgot all the words.

* * *

Outside the booth, none of them noticed the two teenagers watching their party. Both boys had their phones up, recording the drunken Avengers singing their hearts out to Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend".

"This is so going on Youtube," Luke said. "No one's going to believe this."

* * *

Clint was still singing long after the place was closed. He was so drunk, Bruce and Steve had to help him out into the parking lot. Tony was just as sloshed as the archer was, but was much more quiet about it. He snuggled Pepper while she said her good-byes and then led him off to the waiting limo.

Marcy climbed into the driver's seat of the traditional SHIELD issue black SUV while the others tossed Clint into the back and belted him in. As Bruce and Natasha, both a little tipsy, seated themselves in the back as well, Steve opened the front passenger door.

"Mind if I get a lift with you guys? I took a cab here."

"Sure, hop in," Marcy responded.

Clint and Natasha were dropped off first. Steve, once again, helped to get the former up the stairs while he loudly sang every love ballad he could think of Natasha's way. Bruce was next to be returned home and then Marcy frowned as she pulled up to Steve's complex.

"Steve Rogers, you lied to me," she accused. "I don't see your bike anywhere. You didn't take a cab."

The captain shrugged, caught. "Yeah, I know. I wanted to make sure everyone got home alright."

"But what if your bike gets stolen? I could drive you back."

"It's fine. I'll go get it in the morning. And if it's not there, I'll just get another one." SHIELD already paid him with more money and free vehicles than he knew what to do with as it was. "I could have even been your designated driver if you wanted," he added. "Doesn't seem fair you had to be the sober one tonight."

"I neither like the taste of beer nor do I enjoy losing control of my faculties," she replied as she gazed out the window at the city. "Besides, I don't really see the point of getting drunk when you're sad. When you lose someone, it's okay to mourn, to let yourself be in pain. That's how you move on. If you try to cover it up with alcohol, it's just going to fester in there longer." She looked at Steve with a smile. "Mom would have liked to see us tonight, being silly and happy. She always insisted I make time for fun and the normal things. In our line of work, we need them."

"She was a wise woman," Steve agreed. "It was fun tonight. I haven't just hung out with people for a long time. It was nice to feel somewhat normal again."

Marcy nodded and they fell silent for a moment.

"Do you mind if I ask?" Steve then said. "I was just curious about the nail polish earlier today? I was hoping it came with a good story. Your mother seemed like she was a very interesting lady."

The agent smiled in sweet nostalgia at the mention of the pink polish she left on on the coffin. "It started when I was young, too young to understand what my mom really did for a living. But when she left me at Dad's place while she worked, I knew she was doing something dangerous. So my mom would let me paint her toes every time before she went out into the field. She said it was our secret and it would keep her safe. And she always came back safe when I painted her toes."

Steve couldn't help but smile at the story. "Ever tried it for yourself."

She sighed heavily. "Every day." She gazed out the window, a bit embarrassed to look at the captain. "I'm not as brave as she was, I need the protection more often. I never wear open-toed shoes to anything so it's still our secret. Bright pink is preferred, it has the strongest protection. But any other bright color will do in a pinch."

"I'm sure it does," the soldier said softly. Then he felt it was time to tell her what he had been wanting to say all night. It had been too loud and crowded in the karaoke bar to say it to her then. Now was the right time.

"Marcy, I just want to let you know that I understand what you're going through. I had to bury both my parents, too. I know it's not easy. It know it can make you feel very alone very fast when the two people in the world that are always supposed to be there for you aren't any more."

Marcy stopped staring out the window to look at him. "What did you do about it?" she asked, a bit of sadness slipping into her voice.

"I did the one thing you just said not to do," he replied with a rueful smile. "I was too young when my dad died, but when mom joined him later... I had this friend named Bucky. We knew each other since we were little and he got a hold of some liquor somehow." Steve smiled at the memory. "To this day, I still don't know how he managed it. But we drank all night. And then I threw up all night and was sick for two days straight."

Marcy made a sound of laughter out her nose while she tried to keep a straight face. "I'm sorry. But this friend of yours, he was there the entire time, right?"

"I think he may have carried me bridal style up the stairs to my room," Steve confirmed with a sheepish grin. "Not my proudest moment."

Marcy chuckled. "Well, it sounds like you didn't do it completely wrong. And it seems as though you had yourself a really good friend."

There was a poignant pain in his chest at the thought of Bucky. Where was he now? Was his friend still somewhere inside that man called the Winter Soldier? That man who had beaten him, shot him, and saved his life? Steve had tried to hunt him down after Project Insight went down, but Bucky's trail went cold far too fast and that ghost of his past was in the wind.

"Yes, I did," Steve agreed softly.

The two sat in silence again, Marcy patiently waiting to see if Steve would get out of the car or say something else. Steve knew that this was the perfect time. There they were together, alone in the night, each feeling loss, feeling vulnerable and nostalgic. Any man in this position would have leaned over and kissed her now. If Steve had been drunk, his inhibitions stolen, he probably would have.

But he was painfully sober despite the alcohol consumed that night. He knew what he should do, but he didn't do it.

"Well, good night Marcy, thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome."

He should have said she could call him. He should have said he would be there if she needed anything. But he said none of those things as he closed the car door. And, as he watched the tail lights drive away, Steve regretted all his lost opportunities.

* * *

A week later, Marcy received a curiously fat envelope in the mail, addressed personally from a Ms. Virginia Potts. She opened it to find a collection of photos taken during their karaoke escapades. Marcy suddenly recalled seeing Pepper fiddling with her phone several times that night. She had been capturing the moment while the others hadn't suspected a thing.

Marcy flipped through the pictures, smiling at the drunkenness and the laughing caught on film. She paused at the last photo of herself sitting next to Steve Rogers. He had his arm resting along the back of their seat, mere centimeters from touching her. He was leaning in to speak in her ear.

Marcy tried to remember when this happened. Despite being sober, the night was a blur to her. She was drunk on the company around her, letting their noise drown out her heavy heart. Letting the happiness wash away the pain into a blissful numbness. But she could vaguely recall a few times when Steve leaned over to say something to her. He always bent himself into her space to speak instead of trying to raise his voice over the volume of the music.

Out of context, the picture was almost romantic. He had his arm around her and he looked happy to be near her. Marcy couldn't help but stare at the gentle expression on his face before she realized she was grinning like an idiot out by the mailbox. Cheeks burning at her own buffoonery, she retreated inside to do her dopey grin in private.

And write a thank you letter to Ms. Potts.


	8. Gods and Muses

Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this story. I really didn't think anyone would like it at all. I kept preparing myself for flames, but this community has been so friendly and I greatly appreciate the support. These chapters are going to become more action oriented and I'm excited to get into the plot. I really love writing action. And, for your Memorial Day, have some Thor, my lovely readers. Thank you all!

* * *

Gods and Muses

It was known as the bilgeworm among the Asguardians. They could grow up to 20 feet in length with a weight that would easily crush a man. With as many eyes as it had talon-like legs to propel its caterpillar-like body forward. Feathered hairs as brilliantly colored as a tropical bird adorned its back, but its mouth was all fangs.

As a dimension-hopping creature, little was known about it in Asguard. Its world of origin was a mystery. But every season they migrated to lands unknown, and part of that migration path took them right through Asguard.

Luckily, the trail of their ancestors led them harmlessly through the forests outside the kingdom. Many would gather and watch from a safe distance as the bizarre creatures chewed temporary holes in the very fabric of time and space. It was an awesome spectacle to see them appear and disappear from their world in herds.

The Asguardians also kept an eye on them for there would be times when younger worms would lose their way from the path and wander toward the city. Soldiers were always dispatched to stand watch during the migration season, prepared to react should circumstances require action. In such instances the men would consider themselves fortunate if they could merely herd the confused worms back to the trail. Unfortunately, there were times when getting the massive animals to cooperate seemed useless and the worms had to be put down to keep the citizens safe. It was dangerous work, for the creatures had a tendency to lash out violently when frightened.

This season seemed to be going quite well. It was reported that all the worms stayed on their path and disappeared into the ether without incident. Then suddenly, there was a worm in the city. No one knew how it had gotten in there, but they knew it needed to be taken out immediately.

Thor himself was at the forefront of the response team. He and several soldiers managed to quickly chase it out of the city limits and the frightened worm hastily chomped itself a wormhole to escape. Once again, the city was safe.

Odin's son thought the task was then complete, until Heimdall said he could see the worm's projected course. Now far off its migratory trail, the confused worm could cut a hole in space to anywhere in existence. It just so happened to chew a gate directly to Earth.

* * *

Thor thought himself capable of taking out one adolescent bilgeworm by himself, so he went to Earth alone. Now he was regretting that decision. The creature seemed intent on visiting every continent and people on Midgard, chewing worm holes at will. Thor stayed on his tail, jumping through the holes after it, but the animal was so much faster than he expected. It took all his concentration just to keep up.

Crowded cities and unoccupied countrysides alike caught a glimpse of their chase and it was soon worldwide news. But it seemed the creature finally grew tired of running. When it pulled itself into the middle of an amazon rainforest, it decided to take a stand.

Maybe it grew weary of the chase. Or maybe it found a world similar to its own and decided to claim it, Thor could not be sure. All he knew was that he had been running through the crowded, smoggy streets of Beijing and then suddenly he was knee deep in a swift river. Large trees and green exotic plants grew all around. Thor was blindsided by the sudden heat and humidity of the tropics when the worm turned on him, rearing up. It gave a harsh scream as it bared a rictus maw full of needle-sharp fangs.

The creature launched for him like a viper and Thor readied his hammer, slamming the worm in the head and sending it flying back. Blood sprayed as several of the monster's eyes were ruptured. It shook itself from the blow and attacked again, this time with its whole body.

Thor braced himself as the weight of the massive worm barreled into him, knocking the breath from this lungs. It hit with the force of a freight train and both flew further into the river. They both tumbled into the water's depth and Thor's mind panicked for the first time. Suddenly, there wasn't any ground under his feet for leverage. He had the strength and endurance of gods, but he still needed to breathe. This creature could easily suffocate and kill him.

Desperate for air, Thor kicked off from the worm, swimming for the surface. The heavy cape he shouldered dragged him back, pulling him with the current and it was a battle just to swim toward shore. Finally, his head breached the surface and Thor gasped for breath. He clawed toward shore and solid ground beneath his feet.

His palms and knees barely managed to touch the loose, slippery stones of the riverbed when Thor felt a horrible pain in his calf. Glancing back, the worm had his leg in its mouth, sharp teeth spearing through his flesh. The worm reared back, hauling him into the air. Thor tried to take another swing of the hammer, but the worm violently shook him back and forth like a terrier with a rat.

Thor was seeing stars, disoriented as the worm slammed him again and again against the blunt river rocks. Pain shot everywhere and with it, a curious numbness that began to sap his will to fight. Perhaps this was it. This was the end of the mighty Thor; out in the middle of nowhere, alone, swallowed by this horrific beast.

Then, there was a light blue glow in the shadows of the dense forest as another portal opened. Both creature and Asguardian noticed it not as the worm prepared to eat its prey. It reared back, head up, intent on swallowing the man whole when blue fire suddenly tore into it. The worm howled as a large chuck of its side was eviscerated. A second shot blew the rest of the body in half and its pieces splattered across the trees and into the river.

Thor fell into the depths of the current, limbs feeling heavy and useless. The pain in his body was swallowed by a heavy blanket of nothingness. He could not will himself to move and he began to drown. His body was caught in the pull of the current, dragging him deeper as the lack of oxygen slowly pulled away his life.

Then, a different pull had a hold of him. He was yanked toward the surface, head breaking free for air.

* * *

She grunted from the weight of the body and she tugged them both slowly toward land. He was so heavy, plus the drag from that ridiculous cape made it quite a chore just to pull him from the current. Marcy now wondered if maybe she wasn't the right person for the job.

Still, she was the only one there and would be alone for some time until help arrived, so she had to make due with what she had. After finally getting solid rocks under them, she took out her field knife and sawed off that wretched cape. But even without the weight of the soaked material, Thor was a large man, possibly more than twice her weight. It took every ounce of her strength to drag his body into the shallows so she could inspect him.

She first checked his mouth to make sure he was breathing. Bending down, she felt warm air on the side of her face. That was a good sign.

Right then, the Asguardian's eyes opened, taking in her flushed face.

"Great lady," Thor breathed. "Hath the Valkyries cried my name? Shall I be saved from battle or have you come to return me to my ancestors?"

Though he seemed a bit delirious, the fact that he was talking was also good. Marcy smiled at him. "No going to see your forefathers today. I think you're going to live to see battle again."

Thor let his head rest in the water, eyelids weakening. "Ah. That is good to know. Though I must say, had you been the one to take me to Valhalla for my final rest, I would gladly go with you. For you, Lady, are most beautiful."

Marcy stared at him, shocked by the comment. Then, Thor closed his eyes and she jumped into action.

"No! No, no, no. Don't go to sleep on me, big guy." She lightly slapped his cheeks, trying to waken him. "Don't make me haul you out of the water on my own. I'm not strong enough. Come on, wake up."

But the thunder god would not be summoned from his rest. Marcy sat back on her heels, already exhausted. She gazed around at the wild forest around her. Unfamiliar animal noises sounded from the thick foliage. She was on her own.

* * *

"We've got maybe four more hours until touchdown," Clint reported. He just returned from the pilot's cabin and took a seat next to Steve. Currently they were in SHIELD's fastest jet, racing toward the middle of South America.

"That is _if_ they're still there by the time we arrive," Steve countered. "Thor and that... thing have somehow been appearing all over the globe. What if they've moved on by the time we get there?"

"Not this time, Cap. Marcy's on scene already. She's reported that the creature has been neutralized. Thor isn't in the best shape, but will most likely be fine. They're just waiting for us to pick them up."

"Agent Gray's already there? How did she get there so fast?"

The jet hit a patch of hard turbulence and the two braced them self through the rough ride.

"SHIELD's been working on a new toy," Clint explained. "They developed it through technology gleaned from the Tesseract. It's a portal. It was designed so SHEILD could send agents anywhere in the world at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, all they can make it do right now is ship a maximum of one agent anywhere in the world every twelve hours."

"And why Agent Gray?" Steve protested. "Why not one of us? Asguardian monsters seem a bit above her pay grade, don't you think?"

Another hard hit of turbulence nearly knocked them from their seats. Clint decided he best just belt himself in for now.

"You and I were already in the air heading for Russia when they got the thing working." Russia had been the initial point of entry for the worm. SHIELD had already responded with agents before Thor and the creature suddenly disappeared and reappeared on a completely different continent. "They sent Marcy out to get eyes on the situation and maybe predict where they were going next. She wasn't supposed to engage if she couldn't handle things. But they did send her out with some impressive firepower just in case."

"So she managed to get the situation under control without our help," Steve said.

Clint grinned at him. "My girl never lets me down."

Steve took note of the pride beaming from the agent.

"You and Agent Gray, you two weren't ever... together were you?"

Clint was already waving him off before he had finished the question. "No, it wasn't like that. I-" He paused and started again. "We had been field partners for nearly two years and she told me she... cared about me in a way I couldn't return."

"So she was in love with you," Steve accused. "But you didn't feel the same way?"

Clint sighed. "It made me feel like scum, listening to her spilling her guts out to me and knowing she wasn't the one. When I met Natasha, I suddenly knew what it was like to find a piece of me that I never knew had been missing."

The archer smiled as he recalled a time long past. "I was supposed to kill Tasha, you know. But I saw her and she was beautiful and dangerous, and strong and broken. Broken in all the same places as me, strong in all the places I wasn't. So I brought her back to SHEILD. Marcy and I were good partners. We knew each others' quirks, we had fun. But with Natasha, we just _worked_. In every single way."

Steve smirked at him. "Careful, you're nearly waxing poetic."

Clint smirked back. "Women will do that do you."

"So Natasha is the reason why you and Agent Gray no longer work together," Steve surmised.

Clint just shook his head. "No, Natasha and I weren't partnered until later. The partnership between Marcy and I was dissolved because I went against the DNR order. We were in deep and I lost contact with Marcy. So I went in after her.

"There had been missions before when I lost her and had to wait for her to make it out on her own. I always followed orders. But that night when I told Marcy I didn't feel the same, she just smiled at me and said it was okay. She said it wasn't my fault and she didn't want anything from me."

Steve remained quiet as Clint ran a hand through his hair. "To have someone care about you like that and not want anything in return; it was humbling and I couldn't just leave her anymore. I didn't love her like she loved me but she was, still is, precious to me. When she went MIA, I went in after her and got her out. SHIELD knew if I did it once I'd do it again so I wasn't allowed to go in the field with my partner anymore, not even to watch her back." His expression turned bitter. "It's bullshit."

"Why won't they let agents help her?" Steve asked. "I don't understand why that is."

Clint sighed, dispelling some of his frustration with the action. "They have their reasons. I may not like it, but there is a reason."

"And that is?"

Clint didn't answer.

"Classified?" Steve asked with a sigh.

"That," Clint confirmed. "And I'm not so good at explaining it. There's a lot more to it than you think. But I'll tell you what, let's get our guys out of there and then give me some time. I'll see what I can do to get you in the loop. How's that?"

"Deal," Steve said, holding out his hand.

Clint looked at the offered hand, but didn't take it. "You really care about Marcy so much that you want to know?"

Steve pulled back and huffed self-consciously. "I just want to be informed so I can keep people safe."

"So you don't care about her then."

"I didn't say that," Steve defended. "Can we just drop it and focus on the mission right now?"

Clint gave him an amused expression that made Steve frown and flush at the same time. "Anything you say, Captain."

* * *

Darkness descended quickly in the rainforest. The trees blocked out the fading light long before the sun had fully retreated for the day. Marcy tended a small fire that crackled weakly. Everything was so wet out here it was difficult to find anything that would burn properly. It wasn't really cold enough to need a fire, but the source of light was welcome and Marcy hoped it would help keep the creepy crawlies away.

Once satisfied the fire would not die any time soon, she turned her attention to the unconscious man next to her. Marcy swore she had pulled every muscle in her body dragging his weight to dry land. Even an hour later, she was still exhausted and her body ached. But there was work to be done.

Thor's leg was littered in angry teeth marks. She had done her best to clean and dress the wound with her tiny first aid kit, but the punctures were swelling. He needed to get to a sterile hospital room soon to avoid infection.

Both of them were also still in their soaked clothes. It wasn't cold enough in the sweltering jungle for wet clothes to cause hypothermia, but wearing wet clothes for too long caused its own problems. She hoped help would arrive soon. It was making her skin scrawl, knowing there could be a few leeches attached to her from her river dunk.

Thor stirred with a moan and Marcy leaned back in case his journey into consciousness was a violent one. Even wounded, just one careless punch from him could seriously hurt her, maybe even kill her. But all the Asguardian did was flutter his lids and then try to sit up.

"Careful," Marcy said gently. "You're hurt."

"The worm," Thor urged. "Where is it?"

"It's dead. You're safe."

Thor tried to move, but his limbs still felt strangely numb, his head swam pleasantly. As he gazed around him, the tropical forest radiated a rainbow of pulsating colors despite the darkness of night. His gaze circled around to Marcy, who watched him with wide, worried eyes. He smiled at her.

"I have been sent an angel to watch over me," he murmured with a dreamy gaze. "What great deed have I done to deserve such treatment, for she is radiant and fair indeed."

Marcy reached out to feel his forehead and neck. "You've got a fever. That monster maybe even pumped you full of toxins when it bit you."

Thor took her hand, holding it to his chest as if it were something precious. The chatter of the rainforest bugs sounded to him as seraphim singing praises to the holy goddess before him. "My lady, whatever you have wish of me, Thor is at your service. Great armies would kneel at your feet for your favor."

He reached out to brush his fingers at the wet tendrils of hair hanging in her face. She was soaked to the bone. Her unruly hair fell completely free from its usual messy bun and hung in heavy clumps about her face and shoulders. She was sure she looked a mess.

"Oh man," Marcy whispered. "You are so out of it."

Thor heard this not. All he saw was the heavens opening up above him to further glorify such an angelic creature with their radiant light.

Marcy also gazed up at said light, noting the SHIELD jet hovering over them. A rope ladder dropped down, Hawkeye climbing down first, followed by Captain America and a few other SHIELD agents.

"Are you okay?" Clint asked. He took her by the arms and then immediately pulled back. "You are soaking wet."

"Tell me about it," she confirmed. "I'll be fine as soon as I get a dry change of clothes."

There was a groan to their side as the other agents checked on Thor.

"Him, however, I don't know," she added. "He took a pretty good pounding. Been off in coo-coo land since I got here."

Despite the Asguardian's metal capabilities, the team managed to get him to call his hammer to him and they tied both to a stretcher. He fell back into unconsciousness as he was raised to the hovering jet. Soon, the whole team was inside and flying back to home base.

Inside, Marcy was relieved to finally be out of there, but she shivered in her wet clothes against the jet's air conditioning system.

Clint tossed a large olive colored T-shirt at her. "Here, it's not much, but it will get you out of those wet clothes."

"At this point, I am not feeling too picky," Marcy said thankfully. She pulled the T-shirt over her head before unzipping the front of her dark blue uniform.

Steve, who was sitting next to them, politely glanced away as Marcy peeled off the suit to her waist.

"Clint, can you check my back for leeches? I feel like I'm covered with them." Marcy said.

Steve glanced back to the sight of Clint leaning over the woman's bare back. The soldier could see the lines of her black bra straps around the shoulders and rib cage. The pale skin of her sides tightly touched by the archer's darker hands as he checked her for parasites. Steve felt guilty to be watching and looked away again.

Once satisfied the top half was clear, Marcy kicked off her soaked socks and boots before stripping off the pants. The change offered flashes of her underwear and Steve caught a SHIELD agent overtly staring at the woman. Captain America shot him such a dark look that the agent's eyes remained fixated on his boots for the rest of the way home.

Even though Steve himself felt guilty to admit he had stolen a few glances himself as Marcy inspected the skin on her legs. Then she sat herself down, pulling her knees up into the large t-shirt until the material swallowed her. Only her toes stuck out and Steve noticed with amusement that they were indeed painted pink.

As he watched her there, curled up into herself, Steve entertained the notion of putting an arm around her to keep her warm. But before he could decide on a plan of action, Clint had already pulled her to his side and Marcy snuggled up to the body heat, laying her head on his shoulder. Steve wasn't even aware he was giving the two a jealous look until Clint overtly smirked at him. Embarrassed, Steve quickly looked away, promising himself not to look at them again the rest of the way home.

* * *

Thor awoke to a room bathed in white and his first thought was that the divine being of his fevered dreams had taken him with her to her ivory castle in the clouds. Then came the sterile, chemical smell that wrinkled his nose and the SHIELD medical personnel bearing the familiar bird-like symbol on their uniforms.

"Hey there, buddy, welcome back," Tony Stark said as he thrust his face into Thor's line of vision. "Heard you tangled with a giant rainbow snake or something."

"Bilgeworm," Thor corrected distractedly as he gazed around the room, trying to pull himself into a sitting position. "I admit, my recollection is a bit cloudy at the moment."

"Not surprising, considering you were bitten," Bruce Banner said from his seat next to Tony. "Apparently, the creature's saliva carries a type of toxin which holds properties similar to diazepam. It seems the bite causes the prey to become relaxed and disoriented. Like a super powered Valium."

"I've tried something like that," Tony cut in. "Very nice. I'm sure you had a splendid evening off in fairy land as you were being rescued."

Thor looked around the room again, feeling something was missing.

"Your hammer's on the floor by the bed," Bruce guessed, trying to be helpful. "I'm pretty sure no one's going to take it."

That did not seem to satisfy the Asguardian. "I was rescued by a woman. She was most beautiful. Tell me, is she among your kind, Man of Iron?"

Bruce and Tony looked at each other.

"Are you talking about Agent Gray?" Tony blurted dubiously. He never thought of the woman as beautiful, let alone _most _beautiful. She wasn't even close to the most beautiful woman who worked in that building.

"If she was the one at my side," Thor confirmed pragmatically. "I'm sure you count yourselves blessed to have her presence in this place. A finer creature mine eyes have never beheld."

Bruce shrugged. "She does tend to be quite helpful," he offered.

Tony leaned in. "You like her now, wait until you try her coffee."

* * *

Thor more or less excused himself from bed rest, though the attending physicians agreed he was healthy enough to walk around. The bite on his leg was healing so nicely that he had hardly a limp as he strolled down the halls of SHIELD HQ looking for his savior. The two science bros followed curiously behind.

They reached the floor Marcy was usually seen on and Tony instantly noticed said agent among the other bodies occupying the space. She hadn't noticed them, flipping through a few files in her hands. She was dressed differently than she had been before, now in black work slacks and a blue button up shirt. Her hair had been pulled back into its usual bun, but unruly tendrils were already falling out, as per normal.

"There she is, right up there," Tony pointed out and sat back to watch the show.

Thor stepped forward with purpose in his stride. He heeded not the other agents who paused in his wake. Up ahead, Marcy glanced up, finally noticing Thor's approach. She smiled as the taller man grew closer, but then he stopped short, standing before a different agent. This one had similar brown hair, but she wore it loose around her shoulders. The agent had a curvy figure and high cheek bones, and she gaped with wide eyes as Thor reached for her hand and kissed it.

"My lady," the prince said in a deep voice.

The agent's knees instantly turned to rubber. Her face flushed and she let out a flattered laugh.

"Um, Thor?" Bruce cut in gently. "That's... not Agent Gray."

"What?" Thor finally peeled his eyes off the attractive woman. "This is not the one who came to my aid?"

"Nope," Tony said. "Missed it by thiiiis much." He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. The one you're looking for is right-" He turned to the place Marcy had been standing, only to find it empty. He glanced around the area for her. "Son of a bitch, where did she go?"

* * *

Steve Rogers walked the grass toward the parking lot, intent on going out for lunch when he heard a hearty voice call his name.

"Good Captain! I have spied you!"

Steve turned to see Thor walking to him, a hand raised in salutations. He was wearing the civilian clothes SHIELD had supplied to him. The jeans and T-shirt made the man almost look like he belonged in that realm.

Steve nodded in greeting. "Thor. I see you're looking well."

"Indeed, my friend. I feel in high spirits. Though I am on a bit of a quest at the moment."

"And what kind of quest is that?"

"You were there at my rescue, Captain, I do remember that."

"I was."

"The woman who was there, who pulled me from the river, I assume you know of her."

Steve suddenly felt a bit defensive, crossing his arms over his chest, though he wasn't sure why.

"Agent Gray."

"Yes, I fear I may have inadvertently hurt her feelings this morning."

"Why didn't you apologize to her right then?"

Thor sighed. "She flees like the wind, I had not the time. They tell me she is a maiden who will not be found if she does not wish it."

Steve sighed. "Yeah, they tell me that, too."

Thor breathed out deep, blue eyes gazing over the cityscape. "I must admit, Captain, I have become enamored with her."

"What?" Steve asked flatly.

"If my heart did not already belong to another, I would consider courting her. She is a fine woman. Those of her ilk are a warrior's muse. They turn good men into great heroes and inspire poetry among the hardest of hearts."

"Agent Gray does," Steve said dubiously.

Thor snapped his gaze to the other man. "What? You think not, Captain? You find my accolations misguided? You think not highly of her?"

"No, that's not it at all. It's just... you were very out of it when we found you. You had poison in your system. You were hallucinating. I think what you thought you saw and what was really there are two different things."

Thor frowned at him. "You disappoint me, Captain. You see with your eyes, not the heart." He lightly tapped Steve on the chest. "You see but one standard and judge accordingly by sight alone. But you see not courage nor grace, nor the divinity that comes from a woman's heart. I pity you." The prince turned from the befuddled captain. "Alas, I must soon return to Asguard. May I count on you to relay my affections for me if I cannot myself, Captain?"

He didn't want to. Steve did not want any of this man's affections anywhere near Marcy.

"Fine," he sighed.

* * *

There was a crackle of energy in the air as storm clouds gathered. Thor felt the call from Asguard as he stood atop the SHIELD central rooftop, hammer in hand. Tony, Bruce and Steve where there to see him off. Director Fury lurked by the stairwell as if to merely make sure Thor wasn't planning to stick around.

"Friends," Thor nodded to the three men, "I thank you for your assistance. It was a pleasure to see you once again."

"No problem, Big Guy," Tony spoke, though he didn't actually do anything to help. "Just make sure you keep the exotic pets at home next time."

Thor laughed. "Ha! Yes, indeed! I will consider that." He then suddenly paused, looked past them at the image standing a few yards back. There stood the woman who saved him, arms crossed self-consciously over herself. The stray tendrils from her messy bun fluttered in the breeze.

The large man brushed past his friends, approaching so fast Marcy looked a bit worried. But Thor stopped short of getting into her personal space.

"My lady." He dropped to one knee as he took her hand, pressing it to his forehead. "I, Thor, son of Odin, do pledge on my honor to thee. Should you ever be in need of my assistance, I shall come."

Marcy wanted to take her hand back, but she wasn't sure if she dared. "Um... that's not necessary," she said in a weak voice.

Thor raised his head, his ice blue eyes meeting her dark brown ones. "You think yourself unworthy of this covenant." He stood, her hand still in his. His height loomed over her, chest so close to her as he brushed his thumb against the back of her hand. "Mayhap I should take you back to Asguard with me so that you may be a proper muse. There you can inspire greatness among my legions as the men here seem to be blinded as to the type of creature you really are."

"I think you still have a bit of poison in your system," Marcy said gently, looking down.

Thor's brow became concerned and he reached with his free hand to lift her chin, urging her to meet his gaze once more. "I understand now. You have been wounded in this world, my lady. They do not see your brilliance because you do not see it either." Despite himself, he leaned in closer, breath brushing the skin of her face. "Maybe I shall take you, so that I may heal..."

His mouth was so close to hers now, his voice hot on her mouth.

"Ahem!" Steve cleared his throat loudly, suddenly appearing a few inches from the couple.

Marcy instantly sucked in a breath and pulled back, instinctively moving closer to the captain. Steve allowed this and took a step forward to further keep her from the Asguardian.

Thor raised an understanding brow to the frowning soldier. "Ah, it has become clear to me now. I underestimated your perceptions, Captain." He heartily clapped Steve on the arm. "Be well my friends and do take care of each other. Farewell for now."

Before any other words could be spoken, a bolt of lightning crashed on the rooftop. Steve tucked Marcy into his chest to shield her as the blinding energy crackled around them. Then, all was normal once more and Thor was gone.


	9. Me Party

Thank you again for all the support! A special thanks to unregistered guests of the site. You don't have an account, but you still take the time to let me know I have readers out there and you are enjoying the fic. Since I can't thank them personally, just a big shout out to all you awesome people who take the time to brighten my day.

Me Party

Clint and Natasha were both gone. Prague had them and would not be returning them any time soon. Marcy had hoped they would be back by tonight as scheduled, but missions never did go according to plans. That's why agents were always taught to adapt to situations as they changed.

She sighed as she closed the computer file stating the two agents were still out in the field. Time for her to adapt to the situation as well. What was she supposed to do with all that food she bought? Quickly, her mind came up with a secondary plan of action.

Stepping out of her office, she traveled down to a lower level of the building where SHIELD kept all their training equipment. Several agents were using the facilities for their regular workouts. A small group had collected on the mats in the corner for a few good-natured sparing matches to keep their skills sharp.

Marcy found Steve Rogers on one of the running machines, going at nearly full speed. Normally, Steve enjoyed a good run outside. But with temperatures that day predicted to hit 100, it was just too hot and miserable for an outdoor run at this time of day.

Steve saw her coming, but didn't slow his pace. "Agent Gray," he huffed in greeting.

"Hey," she returned, her attention on his speed. How long could he just race like that? The man was ridiculous!

"Anything I can help you with?" Steve pressed.

"Uh, yeah..." She suddenly felt her face go warm, her heart pick up. "I thought I'd check... maybe ask if- you know, I wasn't really sure..." _You sound like an idiot, Marcy, just say it!_ "I was curious if you had any plans for tonight? For the Fourth?"

Steve smiled through his heavy breaths. He had answered this question several times before already this week. Some were invitations from women wondering if he wanted a date. Most were from fellow co-workers, including Fury himself, making sure he wasn't spending the holiday alone. Everyone knew he didn't have any family to go to for festivities and he appreciated the thought. But Steve already had the situation covered.

"Don't worry about me," he panted. "Going to a friend's house for a barbecue. I'm all taken care of."

Marcy's mouth hung open for a bit, as if not expecting that response. Then she instantly recovered. "Oh, okay. I'm glad." She forced a smile to her face. "I hope you have fun."

Steve just nodded as he continued to run. By now, his response to that question was automatic, but he appreciated Agent Gray checking up on him. It definitely could be a bit tough around the holidays without any family around. Especially how fun the Fourth of July could be in this day and age. His parents would have loved it; all the food, the parades, the fireworks.

Steve suddenly stopped the machine as he remembered something. Both of Marcy's parents were now deceased. He didn't recall any mention of siblings. Did she have anyone to be with tonight? He was an idiot, he should have invited her along. Steve looked around the exercise room, but Agent Gray was already long gone.

As the day passed, Steve kept an eye out for her, but he never saw her again before he left for the night.

* * *

Steve rang the front doorbell, bags of ice in his hand. It was the same house where he and Natasha had knocked on the back door a few months earlier, on the run from SHIELD. It was nice to come back under more pleasant circumstances.

Sam answered the door, breaking into a smile at the sight of his friend. "Steve, glad you could make it, man." He extended a hand and both exchanged a hearty handshake.

"Glad to be here now that I'm not running for my life," Steve replied.

"Yeah, I hear that. Thanks for bringing the ice, man, I totally forgot." Sam stepped aside, inviting the taller man in.

"No problem, thanks for inviting me."

"Yeah, don't thank me yet," Sam said in a lower tone, taking the ice from him. "You still have to meet my family."

Even before stepping inside, Steve could tell the place was full of noise and people. "Full house today, huh?"

"You bet. The Wilsons know how to do the Fourth right. It was my dad's favorite holiday. We like to keep his memory alive by burning good food and blowing things up."

Steve laughed. "Sounds good."

Two little boys, the source of the banging sounds up above them, came tearing down the stairs, nearly knocking into Steve on the way to the kitchen.

"Those are my nephews," Sam said. "And that's my older sister, Nikki."

A heavier, bright eyed woman passed by the kitchen doorway, a toddler on her hip.

"Hi," she greeted. "So good of you to come to our-" She cut herself off, angry glare into the kitchen. "Hey! Devon, don't you swing that sword in the kitchen! I'm not playing with you! You boys take it outside right now!"

As she disappeared further inside, another woman, older and a bit heavier than the last came out. She had the same bright eyes as Nikki and an extra spring in her step as she came down the hall.

"Oh, is this him?" she asked excitedly.

"Yup, Steve, this is my mom, Nadine. Mom, this is Captain Rogers."

Steve nodded in her direction. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Oh! None of that now." Sam's mother quickly waved him off. "You can call me Mama. We are all family here."

Steve looked unsure, even as Nadine reached up to grab his face and plant kisses on both his cheeks. "I'm so happy my Sammy met you. You got him out of that office job and back out there, doing what he does best. My boy flies that sky like God always meant for him to have wings."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve agreed. "Sam is amazing. Not only that, he's a hero. He helped us save the world. I couldn't have done it without him. You should be very proud."

"Oh, we are, we are." She hugged her son around the middle and then gestured to Steve. "Well come on back, we've got all the food out. I hope you're hungry. We always tend to cook more food than we've got people."

Steve was led to the back yard which was small, but immaculately kept. There was a shorter, stout man already at the grill, Nikki's husband. The two boys were now running around in the grass. Steve was about to check out the food table when a woman with perfectly dark skin and full lips stepped in his way.

"Hey there," she greeted, openly eying him up and down. "You're a lot taller than you look on TV. A lot cuter, too."

Steve didn't know what to say to that, so he just laughed nervously.

The woman moved in uncomfortably close and Steve could smell her perfume. "You got your shield wit' you, soldier boy? I'd love to see it some time. I bet it's... big."

"Ronnie!" Sam quickly stepped in, separating the two. "Steve, this is my baby sister Veronica, who was just going to go inside to grab the jello or something." He looked pointedly at his sister.

"Fine," Veronica huffed. "I can take a hint." She sashayed back into the house, purposefully swinging her hips before throwing Steve a sultry look and disappearing inside.

Steve was left blinking blankly in her wake.

"Don't date her," Sam said to him.

"I wasn't even trying..." Steve insisted.

"I know, but I'm just saying. Ronnie's high maintenance and I love her, but she's a much higher price than you want to pay for that kind of crazy, know what I'm saying?"

Steve shook his head but said, "Let's pretend I do."

* * *

Dinner was very nice. Everyone settled down to eat and Steve couldn't remember the last time he had sat down at a full table like this. Or ate so much good home cooking. It was starting to get dark by the time they began to clean up, bellies full and still plenty of leftovers. Nadine was already packing food into Tupperware, insisting Steve take it home.

Outside, the kids ran around with sparklers while Sam pulled out a large collection of store brand fireworks. As the mini explosive devices whistled and spat multicolored fire into the air, Steve had to say it was a pretty good night. For a brief moment, he felt like a normal person. And he felt like he belonged right where he was.

In the background, the faint sound of the doorbell sounded.

"I got it," Veronica, who was already in the house, called.

Nobody outside thought anything of it until her voice drifted out to the backyard.

"Sammy? You got a bloody, soaked white girl on your front porch."

That caught the attention of both soldiers.

"What?" Sam demanded, wondering if his sister was messing with him.

"I think she might be high. Should I call the cops?"

"Hold on," Sam called, heading into the house. "Keep the kids back here," he said to his mother before stepping inside. Concerned, Steve followed a few paces after him, standing protectively next to Veronica as Sam answered the door.

There stood on his porch, as his sister said, a soaking wet woman as if she had just crawled out of a lake. Her dark brown hair clung to her face, skin pale white as if in shock. She wore a black T-shirt and pajama bottoms, one arm bleeding, her bare feet also cut and bloody. It did indeed look like there was a crazy person standing in front of his home.

"Is Captain Rogers here?" she asked in a shaky voice, fists clenching and unclenching nervously.

"Marcy?" Steve rushed forward, alarmed by her physical state. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I need a ride to SHIELD," she said, eyes wide like saucers.

"Looks like the only ride you need is to the hospital," Sam mumbled.

Steve turned to him. "I can't take her on my bike."

Sam's mouth was set in a firm line. "Let me get my car keys."

As he moved off, Steve stooped in, offering a supportive arm as Marcy limped into the house. "You should let us look at you first."

"No good," she said, wincing with every step. "I was attacked in my apartment. I don't think they followed me here, but we need to get to SHIELD. Now."

Sam returned with his keys, an old towel and a first aid kit in his possession. His mother trailed behind him.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine, Mom. Just have to give Steve and his... friend a ride."

"Also, coworker," Steve clarified.

"Agent Marcy Gray," she added. "Sorry to intrude, it's been a rough night."

"Sorry, Mom. I need to go take care of this," Sam said.

Nadine kissed the side of her son's temple. "You go do what you need to do, baby. Keep saving the world. We'll get things cleaned up and put the kids to bed."

"Okay, Mom. I'll call you when I know what's going on."

Sam led the two to the garage, getting in the driver's seat of his car while they climbed in the back. Marcy sat sideways in the seat so she could finally inspect her damaged feet.

"Don't get any blood on my seats, I just got this car a month ago," Sam warned as he pulled out of the garage.

Steve was right there, putting the towel under her bleeding feet to keep the upholstery clean. He then gently took the foot she wasn't examining and inspected it himself.

"There's a big piece of glass in this one," he said.

Marcy hissed through her teeth. "Can you get it out?"

The piece was so big, Steve managed to grab a hold of it with his bare fingers. Marcy grimaced in pain as it was yanked out. Fresh blood seeped from the wound and Steve wrapped the foot in the towel.

"I thought it was supposed to hurt more going in than coming out," Marcy said. She noticed Sam glance at her in the rear view mirror. "Were you going to say 'that's what she said'?" she accused.

Sam smiled, he had totally been thinking it. "I didn't say a word."

"I don't understand," Steve said.

Sam just laughed.

* * *

Due to the captain's warning call before they arrived, Bruce Banner met the car outside SHIELD central as it pulled up, a larger first aid kid in his hands. All the real medical personnel had gone home for the night, but Fury was calling people in in the wake of these new events.

When Sam parked the car, Steve insisted on carrying Marcy into the building instead of making her walk. The woman was too hurt and shaky to protest as they brought her into an exam room.

"What a mess," Bruce said as he scooted up his chair to take a look at the soles of her feet.

"Didn't have time to put on shoes," Marcy lamented. "One second I was minding my own business, then all my windows just shattered and bodies were flying into the apartment. All I could do was fight my way out and run."

Bruce produced a set of tweezers and got to work picking tiny slivers of glass out of her skin.

"Do you know who they were?" Steve asked. He kept shifting from one foot to another. The news that there were bad guys out there attacking his friends made him restless.

"Sorry, they weren't wearing team jerseys. Just all black." Marcy winced as another large piece was pulled from her flesh.

"Well, what were they after?" Sam put in. "Why attack you?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I can't think of anything of worth in my apartment that guys like that would be after."

"So many in here," Bruce muttered to himself, pushing the light closer to her feet to get a better look at the tiny shards.

"I guess I should be glad I wasn't in the shower at the time," Marcy quipped. "Or else you'd be pulling a lot more glass out of a lot more interesting places."

Steve suddenly stopped shifting, eyes wide as he was hit with a mental image.

Sam elbowed him in the side, breaking his daydream. "I like her, she's funny."

"Hey everybody," Tony announced as he poked his head in. "Is this where the party's at?"

Sam's jaw dropped. "Holy shit, that's Tony Stark," he said to Steve. "You know who that is? That's THE Iron Man!"

"I know who it is," Steve intoned.

"Don't you have a home?" Marcy accused as the billionaire approached.

"Several around the world, yes," Tony retorted. "Including that big tower in the middle of the city, if you recall."

"That building with the big A? Everyone around here calls it the Avengers Building after the battle with the Chitauri."

"What?" Tony protested. "That A is for Anthony Stark, that's me. It's my building."

"Mr. Stark, Sam Wilson, I'm a big fan." Sam moved in, offering his hand.

Tony shook it limply as he looked around the room for assistance. "And who is this?"

"Falcon," Steve offered. "He's the guy who helped us through the whole Project Insight incident."

"The wing man!" Tony now seemed a bit more amiable at shaking the man's hand, firming his grip. "Very interesting gadget you got there. You a part of our boy band now?"

"I'm sorry, your what?" Sam asked.

Director Nick Fury cut off any further conversation as he stepped into the room. "All of you into the conference room. We pulled up the video feed from Gray's apartment."

"They bug your apartments?" Sam whispered to Steve.

"Welcome to SHIELD," he responded back.

Marcy's eyes widened again. "There's really no need to watch the video," she insisted hastily. "I can just tell you what happened."

Fury glared at her. "What sort of dumbass thing is that to say? Get yourselves in here so we can watch this."

Marcy groaned as she slid off the table, and it wasn't because of her damaged feet.

* * *

All present sat at a semi circle table, a large screen before them. All were eager to see what was on the tape, save for Marcy, who's brows were drawn in trepidation as if she were about to watch the worst horror movie ever.

The camera bug was obviously planted down low. They were treated to a view of Marcy's apartment looking up from the floor. In front of the couches sat two cardboard stand-ups. One was of Captain America and he wore a pair of comically large yellow sunglasses and a purple feather boa hanging around his cardboard shoulders. The other stand-up was of Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit. That one had a pink blow up guitar hanging from his shoulders and a glittery blue wig on its head.

"What the hell?" Sam demanded, taking in the odd sight.

"Oh, God, why?" Marcy moaned to herself. She had covered her bright red face with her hands, watching the movie through her fingers.

Then Marcy came on screen, wearing the same pjs she had on and dancing to music that they could not hear.

"Oh, please tell me there's sound to this," Tony begged.

"One second." Fury fiddled with his laptop and Billy Idol's "Dancing With Myself" flooded the room.

The Marcy on screen danced along with the music can-can style with her two cut outs. She kissed Captain American on the face and then proceeded to hip bump Iron Man. Then she stepped out in front and shook her booty like, well, like no one was watching her.

Most of those present were greatly enjoying themselves. Bruce of all people was laughing the hardest of all, though he was trying to keep it to himself as best he could. But Steve watched Marcy as she sank lower in her chair. All he could think about was when she asked him what his plans were earlier that day. Clint and Natasha were out in the field. She asked him because she didn't have anyone to spend the holiday with. Steve felt like a scumbag.

As if summoned to ruin their fun, a large gray tabby wandered in front of the camera and then proceeded to chew on it. The audience booed the cat mouth covering the screen.

"Get out of the way, stupid cat!" Sam jeered.

"Dipshit!" Tony barked next to him. Then he suddenly jumped to his feet. "What is that?"

Fury quickly paused the video, wondering if he had noticed something important.

"Up there in the corner by the ear." Tony pointed. "That. What is that?"

There, in the top right corner, barely in the shot, sat a teddy bear dressed in what seemed to be a little Captain America outfit. Caught, Marcy muttered something in a low voice. Bruce, who sat next to her, clearly heard what she said and let out another fresh batch of snorting laughs.

"I'm sorry, what?" Tony pressed.

Marcy sighed loudly and said in a clear voice. "Captain A-bear-ica."

Tony laughed along, cackling wildly.

Sam turned to his friend, voice low. "Dude, Steve, this chick digs you big time. Don't tell me you guys are just coworkers."

Steve just hushed him as Fury started the video again.

The cat gave a few more good chews to the camera and then quickly skittered off in alarm as Marcy's windows shattered. Bodies dressed all in black, faces covered, flew in through the windows. Marcy was instantly on the defensive. Despite the broken glass on her floor, she flew into a flurry of punches and kicks at her attackers.

She high kicked a gun right out of the first assailant's hands before back kicking the one behind her right in the groin. All men present winced in empathy even though the guy deserved it. Marcy then jumped back on the first one, knees around his neck. Twisting her hips, she threw them both to the floor with her on top. With a sharp cry, she punched the heel of her hand into the attacker's neck and he instantly grabbed his throat, trying to breathe.

Groin Kick and another ganged up on her then, forcing her onto her knees as one of them retrieved something from a pouch. Whatever they were trying to do, they didn't get to do it very long before she headbutted one of the guys in the nose. Then she rolled over, kicking the other in the solar plexus with a bloody foot before scrambling away and out of the apartment.

The camera could not follow the action after that. The men in black left the apartment, leaving damaged card board cut outs in their wake. Then all remained silent on the screen.

Tony let out a low whistle when the fight was over. "Sister, you're one tough cookie."

Marcy ignored him and looked at Fury. She was fighting to be professional despite her earlier mortification at the impromptu dance party of one. "There's a canal behind the complex. I jumped into that and it took me to Mr. Wilson's neighborhood where I asked Captain Rogers to help me get back here."

"That still doesn't explain what those men were doing there in the first place," Fury said.

Bruce tipped his head as he looked at Marcy's arm. He pulled out the tweezers he still had in his pocket and jabbed them into the red puckered flesh on Marcy's bicep.

"Ow!" she complained as he dug in. "Ow, ow, ow, ow."

Bruce pulled out a broken syringe needle. "Looks like they were trying to pump you full of something."

Marcy rubbed the now bleeding wound, using her finger to block the blood. She didn't even remember the syringe. The whole thing was just a blur. "Whatever they were trying to put in me, they didn't get a chance. I feel normal."

"Or," Tony offered, "what if they were trying to take something out? Any reason they'd want a blood sample?"

Everyone fell quiet. Marcy and Fury exchanged certain looks.

"It's late. There's not much more we can do tonight," Fury announced. "Agent Gray, we should have a doctor on site by now. I want you checked out and then we're going to keep a security detail on you until we get this figured out."

She didn't look happy about that, but she nodded with a "Sir."

"Agent Hill already has a team inspecting your apartment. I'll have her pack you a bag."

"Thank you, Sir. And my cat?"

Fury gave her a small smile. "I'll ask her to look around for it. The rest of you go home and get some sleep. Those of you who actually work here," he looked pointedly at Tony, "report back in the morning."

"Alright, well that was my invitation to get the hell out," Tony announced as he stood. He patted Marcy on the shoulder. "Nice work there, Me Party."

"Yeah, except what happens at the me party is supposed to stay at the me party," she shot back.

Bruce stood from his seat, offering her a hand. "Come on, I'll help you to the fifth floor and then I'll drive down to see if I can find your cat. He knows me."

For the first time, the fatigue from the night's craziness showed in her face and for a moment, he thought she might cry. "Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate it."

* * *

Steve and Sam walked through the lobby of SHIELD central, heading for the front door. But as they stepped out to go to Sam's car, Steve lingered behind.

"I'm not going, I need to stay here," Steve called to his friend.

Sam turned around, understanding in his face. "Don't worry about it, man. Do what you gotta do." He moved in closer. "Be straight with me, you like this girl?"

"She's a friend. I care about her."

"But that's all, huh? Just a friend?"

The taller blond man shrugged helplessly. "I'm still working that out."

Sam reminded himself that Steve was not a man of normal experiences and he probably had a few hang ups that Sam could not relate to.

"Fine, that's fine. But we're friends, yeah? You'd tell me if you were hittin' that, right?"

Steve narrowed his brows at him. "Are you asking if I've hit her before?"

Sam laughed. "No, man, no. Don't worry about it." He clapped Steve on the shoulder. "You have a good night. Come back in the morning if you want. My mom will make you breakfast. Good luck."

* * *

Marcy hissed against the hot water on her abused feet, but refused to get out of the shower. It felt too good to finally be warm and clean again. The fifth floor of SHIELD HQ was nothing but beds and showers for agents stuck in overtime at work. No one else was burning the midnight oil that night so Marcy had the women's shower room all to herself.

Once finished cleaning herself, Marcy put on the spare pair of work clothes she kept in her office. She had no clean underwear there so she had to make due with what she had. Hopefully, Agent Hill would be back soon with fresh panties and pjs. Sleeping in what she was wearing now would not be comfortable.

With hair wrapped in a towel, Marcy moved to one of the rec rooms which held a fridge, tv and a few couches for employees to relax in or catch a quick nap. She figured she would watch some late night TV by herself while she bandaged her feet and waited for new clothes.

When she stepped into the room, however, she found someone was already there. Long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, strong arms stretched over the back of the couch while sharp blue eyes watched the TV screen.

"Captain Rogers, I thought you would have gone back with your friend," Marcy said in surprise.

"Yeah, I was going to," he said sheepishly as he turned to look at her. "But there was something I wanted to do."

Her heart began to flutter. Something he wanted to do? Large was the list of things she wanted him to do, things she would let him do to her. But she forced calm on herself with a long breath and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, purposefully not meeting his gaze.

"And what is that?" she asked as she pulled up her damaged foot and began to bandage it.

Steve's gaze was momentarily caught by the pink nail polish on those wiggling toes. "I really wanted to apologize for earlier today, I'm an idiot."

Marcy's expression turned to one of amusement. "How so? Because I kind of feel that video won me the idiot award today."

Steve did not reflect her good humor. "I should have invited you. If you were with me, none of this would have happened."

It was then she finally met his gaze. "Or, we might have been attacked in your friend's backyard with his family there. There's no need to feel bad, Steve. This wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but... I'm sorry this happened. I wish I could have been there."

Marcy looked down again, wrapping her foot with a new determination. "Don't worry about me, I'm used to taking care of myself."

Steve looked away. While he appreciated the fact that she clearly did have the ability to defend herself, the way she said it did not sit easily with him. For some reason, that statement made his chest hurt and he couldn't figure out why.


	10. Fade

Fade

Steve found Agent Gray in an empty conference room with large windows on opposite ends, giving a generous view to both the New York cityscape and along the inner hallway. He knocked on the door frame as he stepped in.

"How come whenever you get hurt, I can't find you for a few days?" he accused.

Marcy only glanced up for a moment from her paperwork. "Because I like to lick my wounds in private. That's how I roll."

"And you're already off security detail?" Steve checked in a motherly tone. Marcy was supposed to have security escorts with her since her attack a few days ago.

"They're only for when I leave work," she assured him. "While I'm here, I'm like a phantom."

"No one can find you unless you want to be found, right," Steve remembered as he took a chair next to her. "How's your apartment looking? I can't imagine you want to live there any more."

"Nope. It's still a disaster zone covered in police tape. I've been using my mom's old house. She left it to me."

"Oh, I bet that's nicer than an apartment."

"It has its perks. The cat likes the space. More places for him to barf."

Steve chuckled while Marcy went back to her paperwork. The soldier drummed his fingers on the table, trying to think of more small talk. But it really wasn't the small talk he came for. He had hunted her down to ask her something specific. Why couldn't he just get it out and say it?

_Come on, Steve, you can do this. Just say the words. Marcy, do you want to go out to dinner? It's not that hard. It's just dinner. You can say it._

"Hey, Marcy, um..."

Her hand was suddenly on his wrist and he looked down at the physical contact. She gripped him harder and Steve's gaze rose to her face. Her eyes were glued to the windows in the hall, body stiff and afraid.

In the hallway, a group of people walked by. They didn't look like agents. If anything, they looked to Steve like a group of suits and scientists. He had a similar entourage present during his transformation when he was injected the super soldier serum.

Whomever they were, Marcy was scared of them, that much was clear. She gripped his wrist blindly until they left. Steve lightly touched her hand on his and she quickly pulled away, looking down at her lap.

"Sorry about that, I didn't mean to," she said in a rattled, embarrassed voice.

_You can touch me whenever you want,_ Steve's mind said silently. _Whenever you're scared, I'm here for you._

But even he wasn't brave enough to say it out loud. Instead, he leaned toward her, voice low. "Marcy." He noticed her breathe in a dainty gasp when he used her first name. "Tell me what's wrong."

She opened her mouth to respond. He leaned in further, as if trying to shield her from her fears with his own form. Her lips were now close to his as they parted to speak.

"Agent Gray." One of the suits was at the door, looking at her. "Can you come with us, please?" His tone told that it wasn't a request.

Marcy quickly pulled away from Steve, floundering for a response. "Right now? I have some things I need to do."

"Now, Agent."

A little shaken, Marcy stood and gathered her files. Steve watched her. This wasn't his imagination, she was distressed. Was she in danger of some sort? If she was, couldn't she give him some indication on how to help her? As it was now, Steve didn't know what to do. There were no enemies here, no guns, no alien invaders, no Hydra agents. This man was also with SHIELD, so why was Marcy so scared of him?

As she scooted out the door, Steve stood to follow them. At least he felt he should see where they were going with her. But as he entered the hall, Clint Barton stood in his way, blocking the path down the hall.

"Hey, what's going on with Agent Gray?" the captain asked. "What do they want with her?"

"Don't worry about it," Clint said, trying to bodily back him up into the conference room and out of sight.

Steve stubbornly held his ground. "They're not going to hurt her or anything are they?"

"No, I'll make sure of it," Clint vowed lowly.

This was not a common workplace conversation and Steve was growing more concerned by the moment. "Where are they taking her? What are they going to-"

Clint shoved an object in his hand- a computer memory stick. "Look, I'll keep an eye on her. Just go look at that, but not here. Got me?"

Steve looked him in the eye. He was not keen on leaving, but if there was something he needed to know then Clint was certainly the guy he could trust with Marcy's safety while he was gone.

Steve nodded and turned to go.

* * *

Once in the privacy of his own apartment, Steve booted up his laptop and plugged in the memory stick. There were no files to look through, just a video that began playing on its own.

A thin, bookish man with glasses appeared on the screen, seeming to sit in front of a camera.

"This is Dr. Russel A. Dench," the man began in a report-like tone. "The date is March 4, 1981. I am the head supervisor for this project, code A4269 and these are my findings to date.

"In recap, during World War II, there began a scientific race on both sides to alter and perfect enhanced soldiers to aid in the war efforts. Many different tests and experiments were conducted on volunteers and POWs alike, forcing men to endure both physical and chemical alterations. All of which failed, leaving many dead in their wake.

"In 1942, Dr. Abraham Erskine claimed to have perfected a "Super Soldier" serum which would chemically enhance the physical prowess of a man beyond human limits. The experiment took place in August of that same year on a..." the man paused to confer with his notes, "Steven Rogers from Brooklyn, New York, age 24. The experiment proved successful with the test subject resulting in an enhanced physical state instantly. Further tests verified an increase in strength, muscle mass, and endurance. Rogers was also reported to be asthmatic at the time of the experiment, a condition that was also cured after the administration of the serum.

"Erskine's super soldier was a success in every way. Unfortunately, he was assassinated mere seconds after the experiment and the details of the super soldier formula died with him."

The man on screen momentarily fiddled with his notes while Steve sighed. The report had taken him back to that day. He recalled Dr. Erskine dying before his eyes. Only the first of many deaths he had personally witnessed in his lifetime.

"With the success of Dr. Erskine's experiment," Dr. Dench continued, "it only fueled the race to find the next super soldier serum, even though the war was long over. In 1957, Dr. Anton Isaacs completed his own kind of formula, which he dubbed Project Ghost. Whereas the desired result was to give the subject the ability to render themselves invisible."

Dr. Dench's face disappeared from the screen, turning to fuzzy black and white video footage taken from that time period. Dr. Dench voiced over the scene.

"The serum was administered to eight different volunteers, most of which died within the next 48 hours after exposure."

The video showed a man strapped to a table, clearly in severe pain. He looked bloated and sweaty, but then his skin changed. No, not changed, it went transparent, showing all the muscle groups it held underneath. Muscle and bone began to fade, revealing organs and veins. Steve could see the man's heart beating rapidly in the subject's chest. Too rapidly. It raced faster and faster until the organ literally burst inside the man's body and he died.

"The serum put an impossible strain on the host's body," Dr. Dench's voice intoned, "causing full system arrest and shut down of all major organs. Out of the eight test subjects, only one survived. A man by the name of Daniel Shepherd, age 21. The serum made him violently ill for the next three days, but then he began to recover. Once he had his health back, he was able to render himself invisible at will."

On the screen, a young man in 50's attire suddenly disappeared before Steve's eyes. "Woah!" he yelped in surprise, nearly jumping to his feet. Steve hadn't been expecting that at all.

In the footage, chairs were moved and boxes tipped over seemingly by themselves. Then Dr. Dench's face appeared on screen again.

"Mr. Shepherd was invited into SHIELD after the success of the experiment. He worked as a field agent for nearly 15 years before he was killed in action.

"In the meantime, the ghost formula was still tested on other subjects. But again, none of them survived the transformation process. By then, its creator, Dr. Isaacs, had retired himself from the SHIELD research department. He was found hanged in his room, a suicide note left expressing his regret for so many deaths in the name of his experiment."

Dr. Dench took in a breath and loudly let it out. "Which brings us to today. SHIELD still holds the full Ghost formula after Isaacs' death. Agent Shepherd had a daughter by the name of Claudia Shepherd." Steve leaned forward. That was the name of Marcy's mother. "She has recently turned 21, the same age as her father at the time of his transformation, and asked that we administer the Ghost serum to her.

"After explaining the death rate and all the risks, she still insisted on the procedure. For the record, I was against the experiment, but the board was insistent it be done. The dosage was administers and I am pleased to report that, after 48 hours, the subject is stable and recovering quickly.

"These results cause me to speculate that there was something in Mr. Shepherd's genetic code that allowed the serum to properly bond with his DNA. Those traits were passed down to his daughter and, most likely, any offspring she has will also be able to survive the transformation if exposed.

"In the future, I hope to identify the specific "ghost gene" that makes the experiment successful in the Shepherd lineage. With that information, we will be able to more accurately locate test subjects that will survive the process. I will report further as more information develops."

The video file ended and Steve stared at the black screen for several seconds more. If Marcy had also been exposed to the ghost serum, that explained so much about her. _No one can find her if she doesn't want to be found. _It also explained why those suits and scientists were looking for her. Steve knew he had to talk to her.

* * *

"And this is the last one," the man in the white lab coat said, holding up an empty syringe.

"Good," Marcy responded flatly.

"Of course, it would probably be more helpful if you let us take some blood while you were in your transformed state."

Marcy gave him a look that said he was lucky she was being this helpful. She had already allowed them to take hair and nail samples, a mouth swab and a small skin scrape. Her blood was the last thing she was prepared to give them and not a thing more. The man silently filled his last vile of blood and pulled out the needle. A band-aid was pressed to the puncture wound and Marcy was free to go.

She walked out of the lab, rolling her sleeve down over her arm while the suits and the geeks all muttered behind her in low tones. They did not sound happy and Marcy didn't care. As long as they let her walk out of there, she didn't care one bit.

Clint happened to be further down the hall. "Brought you something," he greeted, handing her a box of cookies.

"Sugar and carbs, excellent," Marcy said, shoving a cookie in her mouth. "They seemed intent on draining me dry this time."

Clint fell in step with her, hands in his pockets. "Sorry Tasha and I didn't make it to your party the other night. Sounds like it was interesting."

"To say the least," Marcy snorted. "No doubt it's why the science club dropped by to torment me."

"Yeah, but no worries, I kept an eye on them for you."

Marcy almost laughed at that. "Yeah, no worries. I'm going home for the rest of the day before those guys think of another reason to get me back in that room."

* * *

Steve didn't return to SHEILD central that day, there was too much to think about. What was he supposed to do with this information? Did Marcy know that he knew? Would she be okay if he tried to talk to her about it?

Steve wandered out on his balcony, letting the hot summer air hit him. He leaned on the rail, gaze trailing off as he considered the possibilities.

"Yo, blondie! Starry-eyed dreamer! Down here!"

Steve was shaken from his thoughts and looked down to see Tony Stark sitting in a black convertible in his parking lot. Bruce Banner was in the passenger seat. Steve didn't feel up to talking to them right now.

"What do you want, Stark?" he asked flatly.

"You didn't happen to get a little piece of classified information lately, did you? About certain top secret government experiments?"

"...maybe."

"We went to visit Agent Gray's apartment and she wasn't there. Everything's still all taped up."

"And?"

"We were wondering if you knew where she's staying?"

Steve frowned. Why didn't they just call him instead of yelling about classified information from his parking lot? "What makes you think I know?"

"Oh, stuff and things," Tony replied, inference in his voice. "Want to go on a little treasure hunt with us?"

Steve sighed and went back inside, closing his balcony door. Moments later he was seen coming down the stairs and approaching the ostentatious car.

"She told me she was staying at her mother's house, but I don't know where that is."

"Easy enough to find out," Tony said, putting on a pair of shades. "Get in."

* * *

With the help of JARVIS, the house was easy to find. Tony had the address before they were even on the freeway entrance. The location was a single-level white and tan house located in the suburbs outside the city. Tony had to creep along to avoid running over several people's children playing in the street. He pulled into the drive way, parking next to a black SUV.

The three men got out, Tony wrapping on the screen door. No answer.

"Not home?" Bruce wondered.

"Maybe she knows you're coming," Steve said to Tony.

"Ha, ha."

Across the street, a generic gray car was parked. Bruce glanced at it, noticing two men sitting inside.

"Well, her security detail is here," he said. "She can't be too far away. I could go ask them where she is."

"Where's the fun in that?" Tony countered, looking like he was considering climbing over the fence into the backyard.

Steve glanced up and down the sidewalk and noticed a feminine figure moving up toward the house.

"Maybe that's her."

Tony squinted at the form moved quickly toward them, not running, but rollerskating. The woman paused in the driveway, watching them.

"Dear sweet mother of God," Tony breathed.

Agent Gray's hair was in low pig tails. She wore a pink T-shirt with a pair of itty bitty black bike shorts. A white pair of retro style roller skates with red wheels finished up the look.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked.

"Why are you wearing my fetish?" Tony countered, continuing to take her in from head to toe.

"I like to skate when I need to think," she insisted. "It's good for the thigh muscles. Now if you would explain what you're- did you just take a picture of me with your phone?"

Tony quickly shoved his cell phone back in his pocket. "I can't help it, girls on roller skates make the spider senses tingle in my pants."

"Gross." Marcy moved past them to the front door. She happened to notice Steve was also ogling her appearance, though he had done so more quietly. "If you promise to behave yourselves you can come in."

Across the street, the two men in the car watched them all go inside the house.

"Captain America, Iron Man and the Hulk are now with this agent," the first man said. "Do we even need to be here?"

"Gotta stay unless we get ordered otherwise," the other man responded. "At least if something happens, we can let them do all the work."

* * *

Marcy left the three of them in the living room before rolling down the hall to the back bedroom where she slipped off her skates and put on a pair of jeans. She returned only to slide into the kitchen.

"Anyone thirsty? I have strawberry lemonade or water."

"Water," Steve said.

"I'll try that lemonade," said Bruce.

"Can I borrow those skates while Pepper's in town?" Tony asked. "What shoe size are you?"

"Could you stop playing around for a second?" Steve hissed at him. "Show a little respect."

"I respected the hell out of that outfit," Tony shot back. "She can wear that again anytime."

Steve's hand actually balled into a fist, but the two suddenly sat at attention when Marcy entered the living room with glasses for everyone. Bruce and Tony were occupying the single chairs so the only open seat was next to Steve on the couch.

"So now," Marcy announced as she sat, "what do you guys want?"

Steve dug into his pocket and tossed the memory stick onto her coffee table.

Marcy watched it for a moment. "Despite what you may have heard, I cannot just know what is on a storage device by looking at it."

"It contains information about Project Ghost," Tony said. "And about the only two people who survived the process. People, I'm sure you know."

Marcy leaned back in the couch, still staring at the small drive. "I see."

"So the only question is," Tony continued, "did you decide to become survivor number three?"

"I never took the serum," Marcy said with a sigh in her voice. "I didn't have to. My mother and grandfather both had it in their systems. The abilities were naturally passed down to me."

Steve looked her up and down, as if seeing her for the first time. "So you can..."

"Turn invisible?" Marcy finished. "Yup."

The room went quiet as the obvious question hung in the air. Steve and Tony were locked in some sort of staring contest, daring the other to speak first.

"Can we... see it?" Bruce asked quietly, his scientist's curiosity getting the better of him.

And just like that, Marcy was no longer before their eyes.

Bruce jumped to his feet, excited like a child at Christmas. Even Tony was taken aback at the sudden display. The cushions next to Steve were still indented where the woman sat. He carefully reached over to see if he could touch her, but she was suddenly visible again and he pulled back.

"See? No big deal," Marcy shrugged.

"I beg to differ," Bruce breathed. "That's truly amazing."

"I want to see it again," Tony said.

"Ditto," Bruce agreed. "Can you do it slower?"

Marcy breathed out loudly through her teeth. "Okay," she said, standing up. "But this is the last time."

She shook out her muscles as if getting ready to sprint, then let out a slow breath. Delaying the process took a bit more concentration. Slowly, she began to grow transparent, like a ghost in a photo. Steve gaped up at her and she met his gaze, blinked slowly, and then dissipated from view.

"So cool," Bruce breathed out.

"Except we still know you're there," Tony said. "Being invisible isn't enough to completely disappear, right? People still have a feeling that they're not alone when you're around."

He reached out to where he thought her wrist was, but only caught air.

"I'm over here," Marcy said, suddenly appearing by the kitchen. "I've had plenty of time perfecting the art of complete invisibility. Yes, Mr. Stark, like a ninja," she added when he opened his mouth.

"Well," Tony said instead, "that explains why I found a file on you with the Avengers Initiative project."

"Then why weren't you pulled in when we were hunting Loki?" Steve asked. "We probably could have used your help."

"Excellent question," Tony agreed. "What was your call sign again?"

"Fade," she said. "They call me Fade. And no, I'm not an Avenger. I was a candidate for the initiative, but I was never inducted. My condition has... complications. Too many to be useful."

"Like the DNR?" Steve asked with a frown.

"In a way, yes." Marcy strolled over and took her seat back on the couch. She drummed her fingers on her knee as she gathered her thoughts. "Let's see, where to start with this. We're pretty sure my mothered died so early as a result of the serum. She was doing fine, but then one day her body just went into total system failure, just like all the others who died from the Ghost serum. We don't know if Grandad's death would have happened the same way, he was killed in the field.

"So that's the reason my apartment was wired. Everyone's afraid my health will suddenly go downhill one day, too. Be it tomorrow, be it 20 years from now. But the thing is, for Mom and Grandad, going invisible was physically taxing for them. It was like holding your breath. The longer they did it, the harder it was to hold it. But for me, it's not hard. I can do it whenever I want, as long as I want and I feel fine.

"Unfortunately, I change too easily. If I'm startled I'll sometimes fade without meaning to, as a defense mechanism. Or if I'm hurt, I'll reflexively go invisible unless I'm really trying not to. If I'm knocked unconscious I'll also fade. That's the reason for the DNR. If I'm in the field, knocked out somewhere, chances are a rescue team is going to risk themselves for something they can't find. It's not worth their lives."

The room went silent and Marcy drummed her fingers on her knees again. "That's... all I've got."

"No, it isn't," Steve reminded. "You were still attacked in your apartment, what was that about?"

"Oh, that. The working theory is someone, possibly Hydra, was trying to get a hold of my blood. It's hypothesized on our team as well that my DNA holds the key to perfecting a serum that won't instantly kill the host."

"So those guys that were at SHIELD today?"

"They wanted blood, too. They usually show up to gather more DNA samples every year or so."

"And that's all they did?" Steve pressed.

"Yup, that's all."

His hand fell on her nervous fingers, stilling them on her knee. "You were scared of them," he reminded gently.

Marcy looked away, then back at him. Then up and down and every which way, trying to hide her embarrassment. She wanted to yank her hand away from his, she felt trapped sitting there under the gaze of the three men. It was not easy for her to admit her fears.

"Each year they propose to run certain tests on my condition. They want to treat me like a lab rat, test my limits, poke and prod at me. Cut pieces of me out for experiments. Each year I tell them no. And each time they are more insistent. Every time they come, I wonder if this is the time where I won't have the option of saying no."

That was why Clint said he would keep an eye on her.

Steve squeezed her hand. "No one here is going to let them do anything to you that you don't want, I promise."

Marcy felt so silly right then. Like a little girl being told she was safe from the imaginary monsters in the closet. She tried to laugh it off to get them all to stop looking at her that way. To get Steve to stop holding her hand and watching her with his beautiful eyes and that concerned brow.

Her laugh, however, instantly turned into the sound of a sob and she covered her mouth with her free hand. She wanted to disappear again in front of them now. She didn't want them to see her break down.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Really, I'm fine."

Steve rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. "Marcy," he said gently.

His voice broke her and Steve realized he had never seen her cry before. Not when she was standing at Sam's door, bloody and shivering. Not at her mother's funeral. Everything was crashing now and the dam was too broken to stop it.

The girl let out another sob and Steve didn't even think. He just pulled her to his chest, letting her cry on his shirt. Marcy tried to fight him, tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let her. Until finally she gave up, spending her energy trying to control the sobs instead as Steve tucked her head under his chin.

Tony and Bruce looked at each other before the former jerked his head toward the door as a sign they should make themselves scarce for a while.

"They're cute together, don't you think?" Tony asked when they stepped out on the porch.

"Sure, I guess," Bruce said. He was still trying to recover. He had seen too many tears from his own Betty already and he never grew used to a woman's pain. He stared out into the bright neighborhood, hands on hips and the sun at his back.

Then he glanced at Tony who was fiddling with his phone. "Are you looking at that picture of Marcy again?"

"Maybe."

Bruce paused. "Let me see it."

"What?" Tony snorted. "Get your own picture."

"Just once, just let me see it," Bruce insisted. He tried to grab the phone as Tony held it away, his hand on Bruce's face as he reached for it.

Across the street, the two men in the gray car watched the scene as a slap flight between Iron Man and the Hulk broke out in the yard.

"Best security detail ever," one of them said with a grin.

* * *

The next day, Steve knocked on the open door frame of Marcy's office. Seemingly very engrossed in the files on her computer, she looked up with a start, as if surprised anyone would bother her.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Captain Rogers." Her surprise did not quit as she blinked wildly at him, as if he were a fantasy unexpectedly summoned to life at her door.

"I thought I'd just check on you to see how you're feeling."

"Very well, Captain, thank you for asking."

The tone was so professional, so formal. After the day before, after holding her while she cried until there were no more tears, Steve thought he deserved better than that. Maybe she was still embarrassed about the whole thing. Maybe he shouldn't mention it for a while. After all, that wasn't the reason he searched her out.

"Hey, listen, I was just wondering if you had any plans this evening."

"No," she said guardedly. "I don't think so."

"Then how about going to get dinner with me? It doesn't have to be anything nice. Or, it can be nice, if you want."

Marcy tipped her head at him as if studying a unique specimen. He could almost see the wheels in her head turning and he held his breath for her answer.

"Are we considering this a... date?" Marcy asked carefully.

Steve let out a chuckle to help calm his own nerves. "You can if you'd like."

She broke out into a smile, something Steve thought he would love to see. But this smile, something was wrong with this smile. He couldn't say why, but warning bells went off in his head.

"Yes, Captain, I would love to. Could you pick me up around 7 so I have time to change?"

Her agreement made any concern fly out the window and he grinned.

"Great, I'll see you then. I'm looking forward to it."

As Steve turned to leave, he was surprised with just how much his heart pounded and how much he really was looking forward to that evening.

* * *

The day dragged on impossibly slow for Steve. And then, 7 came far too fast. He had borrowed an actual car from SHIELD, something that wasn't a black SUV, to pick up his date. Regrettably, he arrived a little later than he had wanted to as he pulled up to the driveway.

Getting out, Steve waved across the street to Marcy's security detail. Maybe they wouldn't follow if she was with him for the night. At least that was what he hoped. He rang the doorbell, heart still fluttering. He hadn't taken a girl out on a date since he was a teenager and he was admittedly quite excited and scared at the same time.

Marcy opened the door, pushing out the screen door to let him in.

"Captain," she greeted. "Please come in."

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he stepped inside.

"Nonsense, I was still getting ready myself," she responded.

Steve looked her over. Her hair was worn down, brown tendrils curling around her shoulders. She wore a small, black top with a low neck and a short flowered skirt that showed off her legs. Dangling earrings and several bracelets completed the outfit. She looked beautiful and radiant.

_Something is wrong, _whispered a voice in the back of his head.

"You look very nice," he said.

"Thank you, Captain," Marcy blushed, obviously flattered. She purposefully turned in a circle to let him get an eye-full of her at every angle. That act seemed a little unlike her. Marcy had always been so uncomfortable when people looked at her.

_Something is wrong._

"Just one moment, let me grab my purse," Marcy said as she disappeared down the hall.

Since when did Marcy own a purse?

A questioning feline sound caught Steve's attention. He saw Dippy the cat crouched under a chair, tail swishing in agitation. The cat's eyes were wide, pupils dilated, ears pressed back to his skull. He stared down the hall where his owner had gone.

_Something is wrong!_

"Okay, now I'm ready," Marcy announced as she came back in. She lifted a leg to fiddle with the strap of the delicate white sandals she wore.

Steve stared hard at her toes. There was no nail polish on them, pink or otherwise.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"What?" the woman asked blankly.

"You're not Agent Gray. Where is she?"

The woman's eyes widened with horror and she suddenly reached into her purse. Steve was too fast. He knocked the gun from her hand before she could pull it out all the way. Desperate, the woman kicked at him, the heel of her shoe nearly slicing his cheek. A second kick flew at him and Steve grabbed her by the ankle, twisting.

With a pained cry, the woman flipped, landing to the floor on her face. Steve was instantly on top of her, bending one arm behind her back, knee between her shoulder blades.

"Now," he hissed. "You tell me! Where is Agent Gray?"

* * *

Marcy moaned a she came into consciousness. Her mind felt sluggish, head on fire and she concluded she had been drugged. Though she couldn't quite recall when or where it happened.

Wherever she was, it was dark and cold. The unpleasant ache of chilled metal pressed against her bare back. She tried to move away from the uncomfortable cold only to find her ankles and wrists were shackled to the table. The alarm she felt helped chase away the cloudiness in her head. While she was out, someone had taken her clothes, leaving her in just a bra and panties.

As she struggled to get free, a bright light flipped on above her, giving her the gut-wrenching feeling that she was like a bug under a magnifying glass. She squinted at the glaring light, trying to see what was around her.

She became aware of a form approaching, looming over her.

"Hello, Agent Gray," an unfamiliar voice said to her. "Welcome to my laboratory."


	11. Lab Rat

Author's Note: When I first posted this fic, I had a cache of chapters already finished, which is why I have been able to post two chapters a week. As of now, I have exhausted my backlog- though the next chapter is close to being done. This means chapters will no longer be posted on a schedule, but as I finish them. Keep in mind I also have other fanfics and projects on my plate. To keep me excited about updating this fic, reviews would certainly help. And I hope to have your support as I would love to see this fic completed soon. Thanks for reading!

Lab Rat

Steve paced back and forth, agitated, angry.

Beyond his reach, in a glass interrogation room, sat a woman, hands cuffed behind her chair. She had the same hair as Agent Gray, similar height and body type. But now her face looked completely different. She had used a similar masking mesh that Natasha was fond of using to alter her appearance.

But now the charade was over. She probably never imagined Steve would make her out as an impostor so quickly. But as far as the interrogation was going, the woman had not made a single sound since brought to SHIELD central, no matter how much Director Fury yelled in her face.

Steve was getting more antsy by the second. The more time wasted, the longer Agent Gray had been missing. What if she needed help and they were still stuck in here sitting on their hands?

"I'm here! I'm here!" Tony Stark called as he jogged up the hallway, sweaty and out of breath. He paused to lean on his knees, panting heavily.

"You okay?" Steve asked, raising a brow.

"Elevator was out," Tony huffed. "Had to take the stairs. Give me a minute."

"Getting old?" Steve challenged.

"Don't even start with me."

Natasha came stalking up the halls next. She didn't even offer a greeting before entering the interrogation room with Fury. The Director, of which, exited shortly after so the redhead could do her thing.

"So do we have anything to go on right now?" Tony asked.

"Not yet," Fury sighed. "Barton's taken a few other agents down to inspect the house and question the security detail. I'm waiting to hear from him for any information."

"Wait. So the security detail is fine?" Tony pressed. "Nothing happened to them?"

"No one touched them and they didn't see a thing," Fury confirmed. "Captain Rogers was the one who identified the plant in Agent Gray's place. If he hadn't we still probably would have gone on with business as usual, like a bunch of unaware assholes."

"So, she hasn't been gone for too long. A little more than 24 hours at the most."

"And how did you come by that information?

"Because the Doc, Steve and I went to see her yesterday," Tony said casually while Steve silently balked. "We had her show us her little magic trick, verifying that it was indeed her while we were there last."

Fury's temper erupted. "That's classified! How did-" He forced himself to stop. Of course Tony's nosy ass found the files somehow. His smug grin did little to sway the director from his theory, be it true or not. Fury also still had no idea what Rogers was doing at Agent Gray's house the next evening. Maybe, he told himself tiredly, he didn't want to know. All that mattered from here on out was finding the missing agent.

A startled cry from the interrogation room then caught their attention. The woman in custody was blubbering, Natasha's face mere inches from hers.

"I swear! I swear that's all I know! They didn't tell me anything!" the woman sobbed. "Please!"

Natasha huffed in disgust and sauntered out, the woman whimpering behind her.

"You got her to talk?" Steve asked when she stepped into the hall.

"I have my ways," she responded cryptically. "Everyone has a breaking point. Some newbie agents crack more easily than others." She then turned her attention to Fury. "She said Agent Gray was taken to some sort of laboratory. She doesn't know where. They gave her as little information as possible in case she was made."

"Is she Hydra?" Steve asked.

Natasha glanced back at the woman in the other room. "Yeah, though she's clearly not the same caliber that we're used to. Hydra's getting desperate. They're running out of man power, taking on anyone who will follow orders for a paycheck."

"That's not good," Fury said gravely. "Desperate people can be very dangerous and we really have been pushing Hydra to the brink of desperation."

"So how do we find Agent Gray if this one doesn't know where she is?" Steve pressed.

"I think the first thing is to figure out exactly why Hydra wants her," Tony put in, putting a hand on Fury's shoulder. "As we know, you, Nicky J- do you mind if I call you Nicky J?"

Fury rounded on him, biting his lip in anger. "You call me that one more time and I promise you Stark, no matter how many suits or gadgets you built, no matter how many high tech satellites you have floating up in the atmosphere, when I get through with you, ain't nothing or nobody _ever _going to find the body."

Tony quickly removed his hand. "Fair enough. So you, _Director Fury_, hired her to be your internal eyes and ears in your HQ. Maybe they wanted to get rid of her so she wouldn't find any other sleeper agents that could be hiding in the wood works. Or even to simply have one of theirs take her place so to access all Agent Gray's files to know what SHIELD knows."

"No," Natasha instantly interjected. "That doesn't make sense. They would have sent someone with more experience for a long term mission. The fact that this woman doesn't know anything about her own mission says they put her here merely to buy them time. They wanted Marcy, not someone to take her place."

"So that leaves the second option," Tony then said. "The woman mentioned a laboratory? Chances are Hydra wants her for the same reason your science guys want her."

"Hydra's trying to make one last push," Natasha said, slightly alarmed at the idea.

"One last gasp for air," Fury agreed, "trying to create an army of invisible soldiers to take us out."

Steve clenched his fists at the grim possibilities. If Hydra got what they wanted, SHIELD would be facing a massive invasion from an invisible foe. But more likely, the formula will continue to be a failure, as it had been with SHIELD for nearly 60 years. And with that, Hydra would either continue to experiment on her until she died, or get fed up and kill her. Either way, the clock was not ticking in Agent Gray's favor. They had to find her.

* * *

Marcy continued to shiver silently on the table as another bag of blood was removed from her. Her body temperature continued to drop from the lack of plasma. Being strapped to a cold metal table in a chilly room wearing nothing but her underwear did not help matters at all.

"You have been very cooperative so far, Agent Gray," said the man in the white lab coat standing above her.

Marcy ignored him. They could take all the blood they wanted. It wouldn't do them any good. It never did anyone any good.

"You don't recognize me, do you, Marcy?"

That caused the agent to glance the man's way, but she said nothing. Running her mouth wasn't going to help her right now.

"Of course, you were a little girl when we first met," the man went on. "SHIELD didn't allow the kind of... agencies afforded me here. Those were different times."

Marcy furrowed her brows, but said nothing. She didn't recognize this man, not from her childhood or any other time. He was probably trying to mess with her head and she refused to allow it. Though, at the same time, his words made a heaviness grow in the pit of her stomach.

"Now, Marcy," he continued in a horrible, calm tone. "I am going to require some further cooperation on this next part. We would now like you to go invisible while we take the next group of blood samples."

Marcy set her jaw firm and looked away. They already had as much cooperation as they were going to get out of her.

"I figured as much," the man continued, unconcerned. "Fortunately, I am no longer with SHIELD, which means I am allowed to resort to my own devices to reach the desired results."

The man moved away and Marcy's heart began to patter in her chest like a moth caught in a jar. She breathed deep, fists clenched and trembling, trying to steel herself for what was next to come. He returned with a generator, scooted over with a wheeled table.

The device turned on with an electric whir. Two metal rods were plugged into the machine and the man held one in each hand. He showed them to her, tapping them together. Sparks of energy crackled between them and Marcy knew this was going to hurt.

* * *

Deeper into the complex, hallways of concrete and steel wound their way through various rooms. Hydra agents wandered the halls and guarded certain entrance ways. But near the back, far from any exits, the rooms were smaller, darker, less guarded.

In one room in particular, the lights were dim when a form appeared from the ceiling and dropped soundlessly to the floor. There he crouched, muscles tensed and ready. Ears listened for the slightest sign of life: a shift, a breath. When he was certain he was alone and his entrance had not been detected, he pulled himself into an up right position.

Hours ago, the Hydra base had been abuzz with a new captive. A woman. That was all he knew about their guest. Most of her clothes had been removed and left in a heap in this back room. The figure carefully picked through the pile of discarded clothing, looking for answers.

As he searched, a soft cough escaped his throat and he froze to make sure no one had heard him, and then continued to root around the clothing. In the back pocket of a pair of jeans, he found a thin wallet. A SHIELD ID card identified the woman as an Agent Marcia Gray. Further inspection found little else but a folded photo.

He held it in his fingers, a picture of said agent sitting next to a man, his arm nearly draped over her shoulder. He was leaning in as if to whisper something to her and she was smiling. He stared at it for several moments. The blond man in the picture was so hauntingly familiar. Like the phantom image from a dream or some terrible deja vu.

Then, the lights outside flickered as an unsteady power surged through the building. He quickly put away his flashlight, pocketing the photo. Whatever was happening didn't seem to concern the Hydra soldiers as two walked calmly by the small room.

The lights flickered again at another power surge and the agonized scream of a woman floated up from the bowels of the base.

* * *

The entirety of SHIELD was on alert and on the move. One of their own had been taken and they were scrambling to find out what happened to her. Agents had been sent out around the country to investigate any possible Hydra base that could still be in use. So far, there had been zero results.

Time was running out. Upon the second day, they were entering the time frame where it was possible she could be shipped out of the country. Border patrols were increased, all flights both commercial and non were carefully watched and sometimes searched. Still no evidence as to the whereabouts of the missing agent.

Captain Steve Rogers paced the conference room, eyes roving over the massive map hanging on the wall. The map indicated all possible locations where Hydra may hide a body for scientific experimentation. It also indicated which locations had already been searched. SHIELD was fast running out of places to look.

The heavy shadow of fatigue fell over him and Steve pushed it away with the shake of his head. It had been nearly 56 hours since he last slept. Not many had been sleeping the last two days. At least SHIELD had the integrity to ignore the DNR this time. When in the field, Marcy knew what she was getting into, she had the option to agree to the circumstances. This abduction was not her decision. She deserved all SHIELD's resources in order to find her.

But the longer they searched, the more hopeless it seemed. When left alone to pace and worry, Steve found his mind dropping to dark places. His wicked imagination would come up with all sorts of sick, sadistic ways she could be tortured right now. His anger would flare and then he would spiral down his own selfish path.

Yet another date unable to be met by serendipitous and complex circumstances. It was as if God was telling him he deserved no normalcy. Nor the affections of any woman. Whenever he asked a girl out, something went horribly wrong. Last time, he was the one who paid for it. This time, Marcy may just lose her life.

It was silly, he knew he was being ridiculous by thinking this way. What mattered was Marcy's safety, not his horrible track record with women. The truth was this didn't have anything to do with him at all. But he'd be damned if he didn't do his best to find her.

His eyes combed the map once more, as if trying to pull out a secret message that would give him all the answers.

"Marcy," he whispered. "Where are you?"

* * *

Consciousness began to be a fleeting thing. Marcy had fought them when the torture first began. That first painful burst of electricity when the rod hit her stomach, she had put all her energy into resisting the urge to fade. It was a defense mechanism for her, something she did on instinct when she felt frightened or threatened so it took quite a bit of concentration to remain visible. The last thing she wanted to do was fade in front of this horrible man in the lab coat.

The second jolt caused her to black out for a few seconds. In that time, she didn't know if she had faded for a moment or not. But there were several more excruciating shocks to come.

Coming to consciousness the second time was when the nightmare truly started. Marcy awoke to one of her arms free from the straps. The man in the lab coat and a second person had it stretched out straight on a small table and were currently cutting it open.

Marcy screamed, attempting to fight them off as her blood flicked everywhere. More men in uniform ran in to hold her down. She was quickly injected with something that made it hard to move her limbs and fight back. Unfortunately, it didn't dull the pain any. She watched in horror as they cut a large square of flesh out of her arm. The nightmare continued when they moved down to cut another sizable piece out of her thigh. This time, while forcing the fade upon her with the electrical charge.

As electricity and pain surged through her body, she saw her own form flicker involuntarily in and out of fade mode. But they were far from finished with her. With limbs still feeling like lead, they were able to roll her on her side, tapping spinal fluid. The next thing they did was jab horrifically large needles into her thighs, sucking out samples of bone marrow. That, by far, hurt more than anything else she had been subject to. After a serious of torturous screams, Marcy passed out again.

The next time consciousness found her, whatever fight Marcy had left in her was gone. Her arm and leg were bandaged where the tissue was extracted, but she was still barely clothed on a cold slab of steel. Everything hurt. Everything had been burned or cut or stabbed with needles. Now, she had an IV in her other arm, dripping fluids into her body. It was her only source of any sustenance as she had neither food nor water since her abduction. The lack of nutrition plus the pain left her weak and she wasn't sure if whatever they had given her was still in effect or if her body was just too spent to respond.

Her head lolled to the side, glassy eyes staring at the wall but not seeing anything. Her skin was deathly pale, peppered with angry red burns, her lips blue. The body shivered constantly now and Marcy's emotional capacity for coping was shattered into a million pieces. Whatever Hydra wanted to do to her now, she could do little else but accept her fate and hope they would, instead, end her quickly and stop the suffering.

"Now, now, Marcy," said the man in the lab coat. "This hasn't been that bad. Stop being so overly dramatic."

Marcy remained where she was, staring blankly and shivering.

"I know you're stronger than this," the man continued. "After all, you've always been my favorite patient."

_My favorite patient..._

Marcy's eyes widened, her pupils dilating. In the back of her subconsciousness, she knew she had heard those words in that voice before. This man, she had met him before. She had been strapped down at his mercy. The memory was chilling and just at the edge of her recollection.

"Though I'm afraid you will not like this next part," the man said, checking her IV. "Is she ready, nurse?"

A woman to the side checked the silent EKG machine, monitoring Marcy's heart. "Ready, Dr. Steadman."

Dr. Steadman. She knew that name. How did she know that name?

Dr. Steadman came into her view once more and Marcy's eyes only followed slightly to catch his movement. Behind him, the wall-mounted camera with the constant red light no longer had the power light on.

"I'm so sorry, my dear," the man said, holding up an electrical saw. Marcy shivered anew at the sight of it, heart fluttering, eyes wide. "But we all must make sacrifices in the name of science."

The saw turned on with a sickening, horrific whirr. Marcy could hardly even comprehend the horror coming toward her. She prayed to God to just let her die. Let it be over, just let her die right now.

The electric blade descended hungrily toward her forehead. He was going to cut into her brain while she was still awake! Marcy couldn't even find the sense to close her eyes as fear swallowed her whole.

Then, like an angel summoned from heaven, something large and silent blocked out the glaring light above her. It slid from the ceiling, knocking the hanging lamp aside. A man landed on the table, a large boot standing on either side of Marcy's body.

Shocked, Dr. Steadman stared at the man, then lurched forward with the electric saw. The man caught his wrist easily, jerking backward and causing Dr. Steadman to cut his own throat. Dr. Steadman collapsed with wide eyes and blood gushing, spraying bright red on Marcy's pale body as he fell to the floor.

The nurse present was already running for the door for help. The intruder pulled out a knife from his belt. The blade sailed through the air, landing neatly in the back of the nurse's skull. She, too, fell to the cement floor, dead.

Marcy's traumatized brain was having trouble computing what just happened. Was she hallucinating now? Had the horror caused her to go mad? Was this merely a vision to protect her from what was to come?

The man jumped down to the floor, quickly unbuckling Marcy's restraints. He pulled out the IV and then lifted her head, forcing her to look him in the face. He seemed dirty and unkempt. Several days of thick stubble on his face and his brown, scraggly hair went to his shoulders and fell over dark, sunken eyes.

"Come on, you have to get up," he said to her.

Marcy didn't move, she just continued to stare. Her brain didn't work, her muscles wouldn't respond.

The man lifted a hand, slapping her hard across the face. "Come on!" he growled. "If you want to live, you have to fight now! You have to get up!"

Marcy's eyes darted to the side as the over-hanging light reflected off metal. One of the man's arms was comprised entirely of shiny silver. Upon it was painted a red star. Marcy knew of stars. It made her think of other things, of Steve. He wouldn't give up at this point, neither should she.

Summoning whatever willpower still lingered within her, Marcy forced herself from the darkness. She demanded her limbs to move, even though they burned. She managed to sit up under her own power and her rescuer climbed up on the table.

"Good. Come on."

He offered her a hand. Marcy reached for it shakily and he easily pulled her to her feet. He pressed her against his chest to help her stand and she clung to the blessed warmth of his body. It felt so good after so long in the cold.

"Get ready to climb," he said in a low voice.

His hands settled on her hips and she was lifted into the air, into a hole in the ceiling, where a panel had been removed. The man with the metal arm did most of the work, hefting her up and pushing her into the ceiling, but Marcy did her best to climb in, crawling forward as the man climbed in after her.

He paused to return the ceiling panel to its place, disguising their retreat. Then his larger body crawled over her, taking the lead.

"Come on," he said, in an almost gentle way. "You have to do this yourself. I can't do this for you. You have to keep going."

Marcy gritted her teeth and pulled herself forward. She followed her savior as best she could as he guided her through the darkness. The place was filthy and dangerous, full of sharp objects that cut into her skin, vermin droppings and fungal air. Her body was so weak by now, several times the man stopped to wait for her to catch her breath and give her screaming body a rest. Once they stopped while she dry heaved.

It seemed to take hours. Maybe it did. Marcy couldn't tell how time passed anymore. Once she was sure she even blacked out, but her body was still going, moving forward even as she gained consciousness. Everything hurt, her vision blurred, but she wasn't done fighting. She would follow this man until her body had lost all ability to propel itself forward. It was her only chance.

Finally, he paused to remove another panel from the ceiling and he dropped down out of sight. Marcy followed him into the opening, her body finally giving out half way and she fell like a rag doll out into the open air.

Luckily, the man was there to catch her. He held her in his arms, pulling her body close to his chest and Marcy's exhausted mind told her it would be happy to remain here forever.

"I did it," she said in a raspy voice.

In the dim light, she saw the man give just a ghost of a smile.

"Yes," he agreed as blackness descended on her vision once again. "You did."


	12. James

Note: Woo hoo! I managed to finish this super long chapter just for you guys. You are awesome- especially those who left me comments. This chapter is dedicated to JuliaAurelia who loves her some Winter Soldier (who doesn't?) and has been a super supporter of this fic from the start. Thank you, hon, and to all of you who have supported so far.

James

_The metal of the table was so cold on her back, the leather straps biting into her wrists. She shivered in the sterile, metal room in just a white tank top and shorts. They said they just needed to run some tests on her, they said it wouldn't hurt._

_ Where was her mother? Why couldn't she be in the room with her? The people had so many excuses for her questions. Marcy was starting to not believe them any more, even though she had been raised to always do what the adults told her. Something felt wrong here._

_ "Hello, Marcy," said the man in the white coat. "You have been so good so far. Just one more test and you can go."_

_ Marcy nodded quietly. The man in the white coat had a metal rod in his hand. The thing crackled with electricity._

_ The man's voice oozed in a way that alarmed the young girl. "Good girl, Marcy. You have always been my favorite patient."_

* * *

Marcy's eyes snapped open wide in fear. For a moment, she couldn't move her limbs. It was as if she were still strapped to that table. With a gasp, reality suddenly fell upon her and she could move once more. The chill from her nightmare faded away with the warmth of a heavy blanket draped over her. A moment later, her body began to feel the pain again. Everything hurt and she let out a shuttered breath.

A rough but gentle hand slid beneath her and cupped her head, raising it up.

"Drink this," said the man who had rescued her.

A water bottle was tipped toward her lips. Though the water was warm, Marcy instantly jerked to life, sucking down the tepid liquid. Her throat burned and rejoiced at the renewed saturation. Marcy couldn't guess how long it had been since she had any water.

"Easy, easy," the male voice said gently as water ran down her chin. "It's not going anywhere, take it slow."

Marcy took the bottle from him with the arm not wrapped in a bandage and slowed her desperate drinking when she had control of the water source.

"Can you sit up and eat this?" the man then asked, producing an army ration protein bar.

It took more effort than she was used to exerting on such a small task, but Marcy managed to wiggle herself into a sitting position. The burns on her abdomen complained as she moved. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. After a few coughs, she managed to produce sound in a rough, smoker-like voice.

"I will eat anything you put in front of me, as long as it's food," she rasped. "I might even try to eat it even if it's not."

The man rewarded her with the side of his mouth ticking up slightly. "I'd call it barely food, but it will help you get your strength back."

Marcy took the extended brick from him which looked like a plus-sized granola bar. She hungrily bit into it, stomach growling. The thing was dry and bland, like trying to eat cardboard, but she knew it was also full of calories and nutrition her body badly needed by now, so she continued to eat.

Once satisfied that she could feed herself without assistance, the man sat himself at a desk nearby. Marcy quietly watched him, chewing on the dry protein bar. The man wore some sort of nondescript commando gear, no clear allegiance on his person. He was fairly tall with dark brown hair that went past his chin and at least a few week's stubble on his face.

And there was still that metal arm. What was the story behind that?

The room they were in was about the size of an average meeting room. There was a single cot on which Marcy lay, a few random boxes of supplies and an ancient looking table, dusty and dry, the legs cracking with age and disrepair. A single bulb above her head kept the room lit.

The walls were all thick cement and Marcy noticed with a bit of alarm that there was neither door nor windows in this place. For the first time she became aware of how stale the air was in here.

"Where are we?" she asked.

The man glanced her way. "Still inside the Hydra base."

Marcy's brows furrowed in concern as she glanced around once more.

"Chances are they won't find us," he continued. "This place was built in the 1940's and a part of it was sealed up about 30 years ago when they made additions to the building. We're in one of the rooms they blocked up. I doubt anyone working here even knows of its existence. But we still need to keep the noise level low, just in case."

Marcy still looked confused. "But why-"

"Are we still here?" the man finished for her. "Hydra has this whole place on lock down since you disappeared from custody. And with that little trick you do, every single thermal camera is online around every corner. If so much as a mouse farts out there, they're going to pick it up. So we're stuck here for a while." The statement was punctuated with a few shallow coughs.

Marcy took a moment to let her current situation sink in as she swallowed another chalky bite of her ration bar. The empty gnawing in her stomach slowly began to subside.

"Can I ask who you are?" she said softly. "You're not from SHIELD, are you?"

The man frowned a little. "No, I'm not."

"Then what are you doing here? Why did you save me?"

He continued to frown. "You ask a lot of questions."

"Do you blame me?" she countered. "While I do very much appreciate the rescue, I just woke up in a room without windows or doors with a man I don't know. Add to that I'm still in the belly of the beast. If you don't want to tell me about yourself, that's fine. You don't owe me anything, but I _do_ need to know where I am exactly so I can get myself home."

The man, who had only been glancing over his shoulder at her before, turned his body to face her. "Do you not expect me to help you get out of here?"

"While your help would be appreciated, I try not to plan for it. In my line of work, I can't count on someone else to pull my butt out of the fire when something goes wrong."

As she spoke, Marcy pulled away the blanket to inspect herself. She was still only dressed in her bra and underwear, but that wasn't what concerned her. A hefty bandage was wrapped around her right thigh, the gauze soaked through with blood.

Bile instantly rose up in her throat as Marcy immediately felt sick. Her face went pallid, hand over her mouth as she quickly hid the horrifying sight with the blanket again. She didn't know how much flesh they had taken from her, if it was just a surface layer of skin, or if muscle had been removed as well. She only knew how bad it hurt to move.

As she tried to gain control of her precious stomach contents, the man moved to crouch down next to her, lightly touching her wrist to gain her gaze. Marcy turned, meeting his dark, haunting eyes.

"I promise you, you're not doing this alone," he said to her. "I always finish what I start and I'm getting you out of here, okay?"

His face was only inches from her and Marcy swallowed. "Can I ask your name?"

He took his time to consider an answer. "You can call me James," he finally said.

"I'm Marcy."

Any response he was about to give was cut off with another series of coughs. This time, he coughed harder, the sound coming from deep in his lungs. Marcy noticed for the first time part of the darkness in his eyes came from the blue circles of sleeplessness and his entire complexion looked a little green.

"Are you okay?" she asked skeptically.

He waved her off, turning away. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. It's just all the dust from the ceiling vents."

She glanced at the ceiling. "That's how you've been getting around and avoiding the cameras. That's how we're going to get out of here."

"It will only take us so far," James reminded. "If we can make it outside, we'll still have a hard time getting off the property without being shot."

It was an unspoken fact that Marcy would have an easier time escaping once out of the building than James would. Without the thermal cameras, she could disappear and never be found again. But she wasn't about to leave her savior behind after what he had done for her.

"We'll figure it out," she promised. "In the meantime, any chance I could get some clothes?"

A large black T-shirt was thrown at her and Marcy gratefully put it on despite the fact that it smelled like it hadn't been washed in weeks. Her bandaged arm protested at the movement, but Marcy tried to ignore it. She didn't want to think about the gaping holes in her flesh just yet. She wanted to pretend they never happened for just a little longer.

James then presented her with a similarly black pair of cargo pants. Even though they were much too big for her, Marcy still had trouble wriggling her wounded leg into them. That, coupled with the lack of nutrients her body had endured the past few days, had her panting and sweating before long. After successfully dressing herself, Marcy instantly fell asleep again, utterly exhausted.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of coughing: a deep, wet noise. James was found sinking against the wall as he fought to clear his lungs. Feeling a bit stronger than before, Marcy carefully slid over to him, patting his back to clear his airways.

James finally coughed up a large ball of phlegm and spat the yellow mucus into the corner. Marcy reached to touch his forehead- despite his immediate attempt to evade her touch. But Marcy stubbornly pursued until she was able to get a proper indication of his temperature.

"You've got a fever, you're sick," she told him. "What do you want to do? Wait this out until we both feel better?"

He shook his head. "You ate the last of my rations."

"And we're both in bad shape," she admitted. "It would be better to get out of here now, or we're both going to rot behind Hydra's walls and they'll never know it."

James let out a raggedy breath. "It has been almost twenty hours. Without a single sign of you by now, they're going to start wondering if you haven't already escaped. Now is as good a time as ever to make a run for it, I suppose."

He stood and walked over to his desk, rifling through all the papers he had scattered about. Marcy eased herself to her feet with a wince. Her leg hurt with the dirty pain of an old bandage. It had been at least 24 hours since the wrap had been changed. She should clean it and put on new gauze if she could. But Marcy still didn't have the stomach for it. She just wished she was back at SHIELD so she could just close her eyes and let the doctors deal with the damage and she would never have to look at what that horrible man did to her.

She slowly came closer to James' side, fully aware of the proximity of that metal arm. It looked strong, like it could break her neck without much effort. While she wanted to trust him, her experience as a spy kept her wary. So while she moved in to look at her papers, she kept herself a respectful distance from the mystery man.

"This is the layout of the compound we're in," James said, setting a building floor plan on top of the piles of papers. "And this is the series of tunnels we'll use in the ceiling." He placed a transparent piece of paper over the floor plan, now highlighting their tunnel routes with light green lines. "These blue X's are security cameras, the red ones are the thermal cameras."

Marcy took a few moments to glance over them, going over the different possibilities in her mind. "The big question is, where do we go once we make it out of the building?"

James pointed to an area next to the compound. "Here's the parking lot. While they have armed guards on site, this isn't a highly guarded facility. If we can get a vehicle, we may be able to make it out of here in one piece." He smirked at her. "I don't suppose you know how to hotwire a car?"

Marcy huffed. "I'll have you know, sir, I am a properly trained agent of SHIELD." She smirked back. "Of course I do."

"Good. This doesn't get along well with other machinery." He held up his metal hand.

Marcy burned inside to ask him about it, but remained quiet. There were far more important issues to deal with at the moment.

"Just where exactly are we?" she then asked. "Once we get that car, where do we drive to get out of here?"

"This is a top secret facility in the northern part of the Rocky Mountains," James said. "If and when we're able to get out, we drive like the wind until we reach any sort of civilization."

"Rocky Mountains?!" Marcy squeaked. "That's half way across the country. That's going to be quite a road trip getting back home." She paused. "You want to go on a road trip with me, James? We'll get some books on tape, some snacks." She stopped again to look down at her borrowed clothes. "Crap, my wallet's gone. Do you have money for snacks?"

"I do," he said, digging something out of his pocket and tossing it to her.

"Hey, this is mine," she protested, rifling through her small wallet. Her ID and cash was still inside.

"Had to know who I was sticking my neck out for, Agent Gray."

She frowned a little at the title. This was what being a SHIELD agent had gotten her. As she felt right now, she had half a mind to throw her ID in Fury's face and quit on the spot the next time she saw him. That is, if they managed to get out of here alive.

"So, this is our plan," Marcy then announced, "we're just going to steal a car and book it as fast and as far as we can from here."

"It probably won't be that easy," James told her, hefting an impressive looking rifle onto his shoulder. "We'll need to be prepared."

"Very nice. You don't happen to have something a little smaller for me, do you?"

Without pausing, he offered a handgun to her by the barrel. Marcy took it from him, along with a few extra clips, and tucked it all in to her pockets and the waistline of her pants. Then James gathered up what few first aid supplies he had and handed it all to her in a small black backpack.

Marcy silently strapped it on. She watched James as he gathered his maps and anything else he wanted to take. His metal arm glittered in the light of the single bulb. The black clothing silhouetted his broad shoulders, strong back and narrow waist.

Marcy knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help but trust this man. For a moment, her foolish imagination considered the idea of running off with him and never returning home. Though, most likely he would drop her off the first place he could and continue solo, but that didn't mean she had to go home. What was she leaving in her old life anyway? The house of her dead mother, a career of spying on her coworkers for Fury, rash scientists who would continue to push her for more experimentation for their own gain.

But what about Clint? And Natasha? Those people who had always been on her side. Would it be fair to them to just disappear and never come back? What about Steve? She admittedly had the biggest crush on him and everyone else seemed to know it. And he seemed to like her back, at least as a friend. And she would have been very satisfied with just his friendship, if nothing else. He had held her as she cried, he had told her he would protect her. But was that enough to go back to?

James slid the desk out into the middle of the room, pulling Marcy from her inner thoughts. He stood on top of it and hefted a bag into the ceiling. While moving it out of the way to make room for the bodies coming next, James suddenly felt lightheaded. He swayed a little, losing his balance. He almost fell off the desk, but Marcy grabbed his legs steadying him.

"Hold it together," she encouraged. "We can do this. Get me to a car and I promise you, Hydra will never catch us."

James glanced down at her, only for a minute. He was afraid he'd get dizzy again. His face felt far too warm for comfort; the fever was taking its toll.

"Is that right, Agent?"

"People who save my life can call me Marcy," she said as she climbed up next to him. The two stood toe to toe, looking into each other's eyes. "And yes, that's right, James."

Though his face was pallid, eyes dark circles, he managed a smile. His hands settled on her hips. "Then I will get you a car, Marcy."

"_We_ will get _us_ a car," she corrected with a smile as he lifted her up into the ceiling.

He followed after her, leaving the light on in the room behind him. They would not be returning to this place and each was content to let it burn secretly until it went out.

Together they crawled through the darkness, James taking the lead. Marcy managed to stay right behind him this time. It felt as if he was going slower this time. She wasn't sure if that was because she and more strength now, or James' own condition was slowing him down, but she had the patience and the trust. She would follow him wherever he took her at the pace he set.

Again, it took time to reach their destination. They were careful to remain quiet and paused any time Hydra personnel passed below them. There were more armed guards wandering the halls than when Marcy had first escaped. Once, James paused, fighting back another round of coughs. His body shook with the effort of holding in the tremors. Marcy patted his ankle in support, waiting until he was ready to move again.

With time and patience, they made it to their destination. The covered parking garage was entombed in cement. They would have to reveal themselves to the hallway in order to get through the garage door.

There was one camera watching the doorway- thermal. All cameras guarding the exits were thermal. But it was facing down the hall in anticipating that enemies would only come for it from that direction. Marcy faded, invisible to the eye, and dropped down silently from the ceiling next to it, out of the camera's view. If she were in front of it, the camera would see her anyway whether or not she was in fade mode, but it made her feel safer.

James slid out after, handing down her bag with out a word, completely confident Marcy would catch it, despite being unable to see her. The bag hung suspended in the air as he landed with only the softest of sounds as his boots hit the floor. He remained hunched under the camera's view, typing in the access codes he had secretly watched Hydra personnel punch in time and time again.

The lock on the garage door turned green and James grabbed the bag hovering in the air, shouldering it.

"I'll check for cameras," Marcy's voice said in his ear and the door opened slightly.

Unfortunately, James did not have a lot of information of this part of the building as he had never been inside it before. He did not know where all the cameras were and what kind they happened to be.

The door opened again from an unseen hand and Marcy's voice said, "There was only one at the door that I could see, no thermals. I'll take it offline, but that's going to bring guards to check it out."

"Do it," James replied. "I need to get out of this hall before a patrol walks by."

"On it."

James continued to crouch at the door. It had a small window and he could barely make out the camera if he peeked through the side. He saw the red power light of the recording device and, after a few moments, the light flickered off.

Not waiting for any other sign, James pushed into the garage, locking the door behind him. As an after thought, he grabbed the handle with his metal arm and ripped it off. Hopefully, that would slow anyone down should they come after him.

The garage felt like a tomb with its low ceilings and concrete surrounding at every direction. James continued to crouch as he ran through the open area, wide eyes glancing over the vehicles parked in a neat little row. What would be the best to take? Which one would the girl be able to break into?

For a moment, James suddenly had a chill of complete abandonment. Wherever the invisible Marcy was, he couldn't feel her presence. She could easily run right out of here by herself and no one could stop her. He was the one dragging her down now, he was the one who would get them captured at this point. She would be smart just to leave him behind. Maybe she already had.

Then, she was suddenly in front of him, pointing to a silver four door. "That one. Break one of the back windows, not the front."

James wasted no time in punching out the side window behind the driver seat with his metal hand. Marcy quickly unlocked the car, then ducked under the steering wheel and began to pull out and strip wires.

A gunshot hit the side of the open door and James ducked grabbing his gun as he flung his bag into the back seat.

"Well, that was fast," Marcy mumbled. Louder, she said to James, "Keep them busy, I just need a few more moments."

There was a secondary door to the garage where three armed guards spilled in.

"Make it fast!" James shot back, unloading the smaller of his weapons at the enemies.

One man was shot in the head, falling to the floor. The other two quickly ducked behind cars, returning fire. James crouched behind the car, returning fire as its tail lights were shot out. Two more guards ran into the garage, one was shot in the leg before he hardly made it through the door. But there were certainly even more to come.

"Done!" Marcy cried with triumph as the car's engine roared to life.

James pulled out his larger rifle, poking his head over the car for a clear shot of where the Hydra agents had taken cover. Then suddenly, the dizziness hit him again. He fought to stay focused, but stumbled against the car for support. Marcy was instantly behind him, steadying his aim, her head right next to his.

"Pull the trigger," she whispered.

Now, James didn't exactly have a full memory of his past, but he could have sworn that was the sexiest thing a woman had ever said to him. The skin at the back of his neck tingled and he fired. The aim proved true and an explosive shell landed among the enemy agents, eating up everything in its wake with fire.

That was their cue to go. Marcy scrambled into the driver seat while James ran around to the passenger side. As he ripped the door open to get inside, a pain shot through the flesh of his shoulder. He had been hit. He stumbled into the car, yanking the door shut behind him.

"Drive," he said, clutching the wound.

Marcy had already slammed on the gas before he could give the order. The car tore backwards from its parking spot, then raced forward toward the exit. Up ahead, however, the metal door was already lowered, only a few inches of light peering out before it closed. They were too late. Even if they rammed the door, they may break it, but they would also total the front end of their car, most likely killing the engine upon contact. They were trapped.

"Seat belt," Marcy said.

James glanced at her, wondering if desperation had caused her to lose her mind.

"Seat belt, now!" she barked and he quickened to comply.

The car didn't slow as it raced toward the closed metal door. Instead of ramming it nose first, Marcy turned the car in a wide arc, then she spun the wheel, simultaneously pumping the breaks. The car spun on its wheels like a top, ripping through the metal wall with a swipe of its heftier back end.

For a moment, James' world spun into a blur. Then the world righted itself and they were outside, still facing forward. He glanced behind them to see a lengthwise tear in the metal door about the size of their car.

"I told you I could get us out," Marcy said as they sped off again.

"Just keep driving," James shot back.

The door was already being raised again, though it was now having some problems because of the damage. Another vehicle managed to squeeze out after them, the metal door scraping their hood in a medley of sparks.

With his last ounce of control, James leaned himself out the passenger window, firing another explosive round at their pursuers. The car burst into flames, the upset sending all four tires momentarily off the ground. Other Hydra agents spilled out, but no more vehicles came after them.

Satisfied they would not be immediately followed, James sat himself back down, now taking the time to inspect his wounded arm.

Marcy gave him a sideways glance as she drove. "You okay?"

It was hard to tell how much blood he had lost in the black material he wore, but it didn't look too bad. "I should be fine, doesn't look too deep."

"Wrap it for now. We'll take a look at it when we get some miles behind us and out of these mountains."

James just sat there and sighed. He didn't have the strength to reach back for the first aid kit. All his reserves were gone. The fever, the sickness and fatigue were taking over and he had nothing left to give. In a few moments, he was out, head resting on his chest, metal hand still attempting to staunch the bleeding of his arm.

* * *

_Sounds. Everything heavy and deadly was falling apart around him. He was falling with it, toward water and oblivion and he hardly noticed. There was a far greater calamity tearing him up inside._

_ "You know me," said the voice that was so hauntingly familiar. Like a voice from childhood without face or form. And in the back of the darkness, two young kids from Brooklyn walked side by side, baseball gear in hand, jokes on their lips._

_ But the anger burned red, blocking it all out. Frustration and rage boiled until there wasn't room for anything else and it exploded all at once._

_ NO I DON'T!_

* * *

James startled awake with the opening of the car door. The phantoms of the past had dissipated, leaving him stripped with nothing but the present. He blinked in the dim light of the car's interior as Marcy leaned over him.

"We're done," she said gravely. "Car's out of gas."

James straightened in his seat, looking around. He stepped out to find they were still surrounded by trees in the middle of what could barely be called a road. Dusk was settling in, the trees casting long shadows.

"What the- where are we?" he demanded. "We should have been in the city by now!"

"I know! I know! I tried," Marcy shot back, frustration clear in her voice. "There's no road signs anywhere. I thought I was getting us off the mountain, but I think I just drove us deeper in."

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked in irritation. "I could have told you where to go."

"You were sick, you got shot." Her voice was cracking a little now. "I was trying to look out for you. I thought I could do it by myself. I'm sorry."

She leaned against the car, forehead resting in her palm. She looked like she had been stressing over her multiple wrong turns for a while now while James had rested peacefully unaware.

He breathed out to calm himself. He was still sick, his arm throbbed, but they had to take care of this situation whether he had the energy or not.

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked.

Marcy didn't hesitate and he was impressed by that.

"Grab your stuff. We need to hide the car, push it off the road. Hopefully, I got us so lost that Hydra is looking for us down the roads a smart person would drive."

James couldn't help but huff a little in amusement. Marcy put the car in neutral and together they sent it down the ravine and did their best to cover up any evidence a car had ever gone through the foliage. As they worked, it wasn't lost on Marcy that her companion still wasn't doing too well. He seemed weak and tired.

Once finished with their task, James bent down to retrieve his bag. He winced as pain shot up his arm, his head was still swimming a little as well.

Marcy swooped in and grabbed the bag for him, slinging it over her shoulder.

"Come on," she said, leading the way down the path.

"And where are we going?" he asked. Another bout of dizziness hit him and he stumbled back, letting a tree catch him. He tried to pretend he hadn't lost his balance, but it was a poor performance.

Marcy carefully threaded her arm around his waist. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. The fever was eating him alive. "Just come down this road with me, and then you can rest."

The wasn't any argument left in him and the taller man allowed her to lead on. Night hadn't completely settled upon the forest yet, but the trees and the mountain ridges blocked out much of the sun's light long before it had finished setting.

In the fading light, the forest parted through the path and a log cabin revealed itself, settled in a grove of trees. It was the only good bit of luck they had and James did not give her any more lip as Marcy practically pulled him up the stairs and kicked down the locked door.

Once stepping inside, she immediately noticed a light switch and flicked it on. The living room was instantly flooded with light.

"We are the luckiest idiots alive," she breathed as she looked around.

This wasn't any old, dusty hunter's shack. This was a vacation cabin, fully furnished, with electricity and, hopefully, running water.

Marcy immediately went to work, zeroing in on the couch and happily finding it was a fold out bed. Once there was a place to lay down she retrieved Jame's listless form from where it leaned against the door frame. He looked as if the wall was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

"Come on, almost there," she said as she gently guided him toward the bed.

He flopped onto it with a grunt and Marcy considered taking his boots off for him, but she knew just because they had found this place, it didn't mean they were safe. They still had to be ready to run if they were found.

Instead, she went into the kitchen and thanked her lucky stars when water came out of the faucet. It was cold water that never warmed, but it was certainly better than nothing. She returned with a glass of water and some expired Ibuprofen she found to help with his fever. Then she brought a bowl of water and a cleaning cloth while James coughed weakly on the bed.

With a knife her sick companion provided from one of his many pockets, she cut away the sleeve from his arm to see the damage. The bullet had gone clear through the skin, but luckily, it had not hit the bone and the wound had mostly stopped bleeding. James lay there obediently, eyes closed as she cleaned and dressed the wound.

By the time she was finished, Marcy assumed her patient had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed and the only movement was the rise and fall of his chest, peppered with a few weak coughs. For several minutes Marcy watched him by the light of a nearby lamp, observing the light and shadow playing on the man's features.

Her eyes roamed over the heavy brow and the sharp nose, his rough stubble and the sunken eyes. Her gaze fell to the strong arm, muscles banded in gauze, then the rest of his black clad form. What was this man doing lurking in Hydra's ceiling? What was he after? And why did he suddenly give it all up for her?

The familiar ache of her own leg and arm brought Marcy back from her musing. The dull pain of her mutilated limbs were merely background noise until now. But she knew she would have to change the bandages soon or risk infection.

Leaving the sleeping man behind, Marcy retreated into the kitchen for fresh water to tend to herself. She was really not looking forward to this, she would rather be by herself. She never liked showing weakness around other people, even if they were passed out in the other room.

Deciding she would tackle the leg first, she carefully shimmied out of the oversized black pants and sat herself down on a kitchen chair. She unwrapped the gauze from her thigh and then stared at the medical pad stained in red. The fluids from the wound had already seeped into the material, pasting the gauze to her exposed flesh.

It was a slow, painful process to moisten the bandage and gently coax it away from the raw wound. As more of the rectangular hole on her leg was revealed, she thought she was going to be sick again at the sight of the puckered red and fatty yellow flesh. Tears stung her eyes the more damage she exposed; pity for herself, frustration that she could not stop this from happening to her.

"Marcy." James called from the other room. "Marcy?"

She swallowed, trying to keep the weakness out of her voice. "Yeah?"

Silence from the living room and then James stepped into the kitchen. Marcy quickly looked away in shame, wiping the wetness from her eyes.

"You should be sleeping, you need to rest," she said.

He pulled out a chair, sitting across from her. "I don't really sleep well. I think that car ride was the first time I've ever slept more than an hour straight. Maybe it was good you got us lost."

She smiled weakly at him. "Yeah, you've now found a way to get some good sleep, just have someone drive you around all night."

"Or maybe it's just having someone I trust nearby that helps me sleep."

Silence followed.

"I'm nearby," Marcy said quietly. "Why can't you sleep?"

"I can't tell you're safe if you're hiding in the kitchen," he answered back in the same low tone.

Marcy remained silent, but internally she found the comment very sweet.

"That's quite a hole they left in you," James continued as he nodded to her wounded leg. "I'd help you bandage it if I could but-" He paused, closing his eyes as his head swam with pain and dizziness. He let out a soft groan that was barely more than a rush of air.

"Yes, and how romantic that would be," Marcy said in a pragmatic voice. "But you really need to get back in bed. I'll bring this stuff into the living room if you promise to lay down, okay?"

"You're treating me like a child," he lightly complained as he stood.

"It's like trying to get a child to stay in bed," she responded, gathering up all her medical supplies.

After a while, James was back on his fold-out mattress while Marcy camped out on the floor, still nursing the gaping hole in her thigh. Once revealed, it was about six inches long and four inches wide. There wasn't much she could do for a wound like that but lightly drip water over it with a painful hiss and then wrap it up in clean bandages.

She was perspiring by the time she had finished with the leg. There was still an arm to go.

"We never did get that road trip you proposed," a male voice said softly.

Marcy frowned a little at the fact that James still wasn't asleep. "Yeah, sorry."

"I would have liked to go on one," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "Just give it all up. Leave Hydra and SHIELD behind and we'd just drive until we hit sandy beaches and stay there for the rest of our days."

James smiled weakly, his skin still pale in the dim light. Tendrils of dark hair clung to his fevered forehead. "That sounds nice."

"Though there may be no more swim suits for me after this," Marcy lamented, rubbing her leg.

James glanced at her. "I wouldn't mind how it looks."

She smirked. "How about you wear the bikini and I'll take the board shorts?"

He chuckled which evolved into a few more weak coughs. "Hydra will probably find us here," he then said.

"Maybe."

Silence again.

"It was because of the picture," he then confessed.

"I'm sorry?" Marcy asked, confused.

James pulled out a folded photograph from his pocket. "I saved you because of the picture and because I know what it's like to be strapped to a table."

Marcy took it from him, finding the photo to be the one of her and Steve from the karaoke bar. The people in the picture suddenly felt like they were from a completely alien world. The girl with Marcy's form didn't feel like it was her at all. She lightly touched Steve's smiling face.

"Is he your boyfriend?" James asked.

Marcy was suddenly embarrassed to be carrying such a picture around like a fawning idiot.

"Um, no. He's a friend of mine. I just... like the picture. There were a lot of people there. It was taken after my mother's funeral and we were all just sort of honoring her: singing her favorite songs, singing ours. Having a good time like she would have wanted us to."

"Sorry for your loss."

Marcy nodded quietly. After a while, her gaze raised from the photo in her lap to the bed. Her eyes rested on the metal arm, that red star, glittering in the lamp light. He had been strapped to a table, too. Marcy had a feeling that arm wasn't put there at his request.

"Can I... do you mind if I touch it?" she asked quietly.

James was silent for a moment and Marcy thought she had offended him.

"That's fine," he finally said.

She gingerly reached out, lightly touching the star with the pads of her fingers. Then she trailed them down, marveling at the workmanship as the metal curved gracefully in the form of a human arm. The trail ended at the back of his hand where it rotated to intermingle her fingers with his.

"Can you feel that?" she asked curiously.

"It's not the same, but I can tell your touch is there," he said quietly.

She took his hand in hers, gripping it. "I'll still be here, even if you close your eyes."

And James did close his eyes with a sigh that released tension from his spent body. He meant to close them just for a while. He didn't want to sleep yet. He wasn't through watching the woman next to him with her soft, vandalized skin as she attempted to repair what parts of her she could. But his plans were derailed the minute he closed his eyes. Darkness took a quick hold over him and he slipped away.

* * *

_There that man was again, waiting in his dreams with that unbending brow, blood trickling from his lip. He had seen that stubborn look on that man's face so many times before._

_ "You know me."_

_ "NO I DON'T!"_

_ His fist collided with the man's face, marring his perfect looks. His head jerked back, blond hair catching the light. But the hit wasn't satisfying, merely more frustrating. James hit him again, blood spattering the blue suit, the white star on his chest._

_ It still didn't help, it didn't make him feel any better, no matter how many times he hit his enemy. It only made his chest hurt worse. This was because it was all a lie, a horrible lie he kept telling himself. The man in the picture with the woman named Marcy, the man who took every blow without complaint was the same person. And James knew him. Deep down, he knew exactly who this man was and what he meant to him. But the lie was easier, the lie hurt less and he wasn't ready to let go of it._

* * *

James awoke to the peculiar sound of twittering birds. Out the window, the sun was bright, its summer warmth seeping in through the glass. Sitting up with a start, he stared at the window. Had he actually slept all night long? With as early in the evening as they found the cabin, he couldn't have fallen asleep any later than eleven. How many hours of rest could that have been? At least eight or nine.

He felt better than he had in days. The headache and fever were gone. The congestion in his chest still clung to him, but was hardly more than a nuisance. Then, just when he thought his morning would be perfect, then came the chill. It came like the return of a cantankerous neighbor. Annoying, but familiar and something James was used to dealing with.

Marcy was still asleep, curled up on a chair, his rifle next to her. She stirred as James passed by, digging through the large bag at her feet. As her eyes opened, she saw James pull out a thick jacket and shrug it on.

"Still have a fever?" she asked in a rough, sleepy voice.

"No, I feel fine, actually," he answered. "But I just have these days where I can't get warm, even in the middle of summer." He turned and smiled down at her. It was a smile that made Marcy again consider leaving everything behind and following wherever this man took her. "It's nothing to worry about."

"So what exactly were you doing at Hydra?" Marcy then asked as she matched his smile. "I'm dying to know."

His mouth dropped into a bit of a frown and he shrugged. "Not much. To be honest, I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Marcy furrowed her brows. "Well, where are you from? Where did you used to live?"

"That's the thing," he said with a regretful turn of his mouth, "I don't know. Hydra gave me this arm, but they took other things." He sighed. "They took a lot of things. I kept hoping if I followed them enough, learned from them enough, I'd get some answers. But unfortunately, this," he nodded to his arm, "and this," he pointed to his head "are not very compatible with machinery or computers. I haven't been able to get into their files."

"Why don't you come to SHIELD with me? I'm sure they have information that may help you."

James immediately took a step back. SHIELD was where HE was, and James was not ready to face the man with the stubborn brow and sad blue eyes.

"No, I'm not going there," he said darkly.

Marcy thoughtfully tapped a finger on her bottom lip and then got up to the kitchen. She fiddled around in a few drawers until finding a pen and a pad of paper. The pen was barely working, but she managed to scratch out the information she wanted.

"Here," she said, handing the paper over to James. "Here is somewhere you can go."

He looked at the address, a location outside of New York City. "What's this?"

"My house. You are welcome here if you ever need a place to go. Even if it's just for good night's sleep and a hot meal."

James took it, tucking it into one of his many pockets. Then he looked her over if she were a hot meal and Marcy felt her face grow warm as his voice vibrated over her.

"I'll keep that in mind."

The statement was punctuated by bullets as they pierced the window, causing both of them to drop to the floor. As they hit the ground, they locked eyes and each knew their fate. Hydra had found them.

James grabbed the bag, the rifle too far out in the open to reach. They crawled to the back of the kitchen and the back door as bullets continued to sail in through the broken windows. The familiar hiss of a launched rocket reached their ears. It tore into the cabin, exploding in the middle of the living room.

For a brief second, Marcy felt Jame's arms around her, trying to protect her from the blast. The next second, she was laying face down in the dirt, a flaming cabin several yards from her. Her ears rang and the lack of sound seemed to slow everything down. She struggled to get to her feet, but her limbs felt uncoordinated. She tried to fade, but it was as if the blast had caused her body to forget how to do it. She must have hit her head when she fell, maybe she had a concussion.

James was nowhere to be found. Where had the blast sent him? Was he dead? She had to move now or she would join him. Forcing herself to her feet, she raced for the cover of the trees. Only a few steps, however, and a bullet ripped through her side. She fought to keep running, but it was as if the puncture had let out all the pressure from her body, like a leaky balloon. She stumbled to the ground, pain ripping through her.

She rolled over in the dirt, clutching her bleeding side as armed Hydra agents stalked toward her. This was it. They would not kill her here, but take what was left of her her back to the lab and cut her apart piece by piece. She preferred death. If only she could get them to kill her now before she had to live through anything worse. That was her last wish.

As the soldiers came for her, she lay flat on the ground, watching the sky above the treetops. The sky was so blue today, the sun so warm. Was there any power out there above the trees that would hear her prayer? _Don't let them take me alive, please. Anything but that._

Above her, clouds gathered; very unnaturally fast for clouds. She squinted at the sky even as Hydra agents hovered over her, their weapons pointed her way. Then the clouds parted as an arrow-like form shot through them; something that raced toward Earth at an alarming speed.

Even the Hydra agents had noticed now. They stared at the sky as the object continued to fall. It was aiming right for them. They scattered as the thing impacted with a force that sent shock waves in all directions.

Marcy closed her eyes as the energy sent a gust of wind over her. When she opened them again, he was standing over her, eyes fixated on the enemy. In his hand was the ever-present Mjolnir, another ridiculous red cape adorning his shoulders.

At the appearance of Thor, the Hydra agents opened fire. Marcy had a hard time keeping track of what was going on by now. She had lost a lot of blood and she drifted in and out of consciousness as she heard the ricochet of bullets on metal and a lot of startled cries and groans.

The next time she came to, Thor was kneeling over her, ripping his cape. He wrapped the strips of red material around her midsection to staunch the bleeding.

"Fear not, fair Marcy," the Asgardian said to her in a gentle voice. "Thor is with you, as was my vow to you."

"Lucky me," she groaned as he pulled the wraps tighter.

"I am sure others will be to your aid shortly. SHIELD is usually well aware when I enter Midgard."

Marcy closed her eyes, feeling so tired and hurt in more than just her body. "Must I go back to SHIELD? Why can't I just let it end here?"

"Now, now," Thor countered jovially. "You are just saying that because you've had a bad day and are... gravely wounded."

"What about James?" she then asked. "Is he okay?"

Thor blinked at her. "I am afraid I am unfamiliar with this person. Where might I find him?"

Darkness was coming for her and she could not fight it off. "We were supposed to go... on a road trip..."

And with that, oblivion wrapped around her and she was unaware of what happened next.

* * *

Steve tried to keep his attention to the book in his hands. It would be so easy in such a quiet room, the only sound was the rhythmic beeping from the EKG machine. The woman in the bed next to him slept soundly, newly released from her surgery. The surgeon was able to repair the bullet hole in her side with little complication. The large chunks that were taken out of her arm and leg were another matter. The doctors were already talking skin grafts after Marcy had a few days to heal from this surgery.

The fact that Marcy was even in this bed alive was nothing short of a miracle. If Thor hadn't dropped out of the sky when he did, they never would have found her and, most likely, she would have been killed by now. As much as they had searched for her, SHIELD had no idea where she was being kept until then.

When Thor dropped down, SHIELD satellites were right on top of him and they immediately dispatched agents to the area. The compound where Marcy was being held was found soon after, but Hydra had already packed up everything, scrubbing their systems. They were gone and left no trail behind.

All they left was a torn garage, a flaming cabin and Marcy with chunks cut out of her. Steve had been livid when he found out what Hydra had done to her. With so many underground and not so underground science departments still desperate to recreate the super soldier serum used on him, it could have just as easily been him on that table, people in white lab coats cutting him away piece by piece. And as hard as they looked for her, Steve had not been of any help to her at all and that set him on edge the most.

Thor had reported Marcy mentioned another person with her before she passed out, but there was no sign of anyone other than those Hydra agents downed by Thor's hammer. Whomever it was, Steve hoped this person had managed to get away- if they existed at all and was not a product of Marcy's wounded hallucinations.

For now, they would have to wait until she woke up to get further answers as to what had transpired during Marcy's disappearance.

As Steve tried once again to focus on the next paragraph, a soft sound from the bed caught his attention. Marcy's eyes fluttered open, then remained fixated on the white ceiling. After a few moments, they darted around the room, slowly taking in the place where she now found herself.

"Marcy," Steve said softly, directing her attention to the side of the bed.

A smile brightened her face when she saw him, a wide, unfettered smile, like a child full of wonder.

"Steves," she said, voice full of adoration.

"Yes, but, it's just Steve," he corrected.

"Steeeeeeves," she insisted lazily.

He smiled at her. "They must have you on some really good drugs."

Marcy gave a slow, drunken laugh. "I feel nothing. Like my whole body is a marshmallow floating in a river."

"That makes no sense whatsoever, but I'm glad you're not in pain. Oh, I brought you something."

Steve fiddled with a bag on the floor and returned to her sight with a familiar teddy bear dressed in a certain red, white and blue outfit.

Marcy suddenly looked like she just saw a dear friend she hadn't seen it years. "Captain A-bear-ica," she cooed, taking the plush toy. She cuddled it to her cheek. "I love this, it is favorite."

Steve chuckled. It was so good to hear her voice again, see her face. The longer she was gone, the greater the chance he would never see her again. Being in her medicated presence was like a balm to a festering wound.

"You, too, Steves," Marcy then added, watching him with starry eyes. "You are also favorite." She drunkenly patted his face with her full palm.

"Favorite what?" he asked.

"She lives!" Clint announced as he burst into the room. "It's a miracle!"

Marcy grinned at her new visitor. "Clints! It is you!"

"It IS me! Good job!"

Natasha came in with him, moving to the other side of the bed. "Heard you got shot in the gut. Now we match." She held up the hem of her shirt, showing the large scar in her side. "Like twins."

Marcy laughed with glee at that, then said with a grin, "But I have more than you."

Natasha's smile fell. "Yeah," she agreed, looking at the thick bandage on her arm. A bullet wound in the field was one thing, cutting up their agents was something else.

"I'm gonna make them into pockets," Marcy announced.

Both Steve and Natasha looked concerned at the morbid thought while Clint burst out laughing.

"Oh man, Marcy, they have you so drugged."


End file.
